


Infinitesimal

by callboxkat



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Giant/Tiny, Hurt/Comfort, In which I am very mean to Patton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2019-07-16 09:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 88,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16083020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callboxkat/pseuds/callboxkat
Summary: In this fic, Patton is a little, as I really enjoyed the Littles book series when I was younger. A little is basically the same as a borrower, but with a mouse tail. They’re about five inches tall and often live secretly in human homes.





	1. Child's Play

Patton was too kind for his own good.

As a little, a five-inch-tall, human-like creature with a mouse tail, it was generally in his best interest to stay as unnoticed by and unknown to humans as possible. However, Patton still tended to try to help out the humans in whatever house he was living in at any given time in whatever minuscule ways he could, leading to many near-misses. His family and friends were always telling him to be more careful, but Patton just couldn’t help it. He liked to be helpful, and he wanted what was best for the humans—they were people, too, he had argued on multiple occasions, not just something to be taken advantage of for their own survival. 

Whether littles should treat humans kindly or not, however, did not change the fact that they were dangerous. His family had to move several times as a result of his activities, either when the humans clearly began to suspect that mice or some other creatures were living in their home, or when there were simply one too many close calls in a particular house.

Finally, Patton decided that enough was enough. He moved out, figuring that at least this way his excessive kindheartedness wouldn’t put his family in danger any longer. He couldn't change who he was, as much as he loved his family; and he wanted them to be safe. He found himself as the only little living in his new home.

It was hard, especially at the beginning. Littles did not switch houses lightly. There were too many dangers, too many unknowns, too many changes that had to be done to a house to make it well-suited for a little to live there. Too many things could go wrong. Even aside from that, Patton simply was not used to being alone. He was only able to visit home occasionally, once every few months. Even though they lived only a few houses down the street, it was a dangerous trip. The dangers of animals, being spotted by humans, or hurt in any one of countless other ways were very real. Patton began to regret his decision: he wasn't meant to be a solitary creature. That didn't mean he was going to go back, however. He owed his family their safety, even if it came at the cost of his own happiness.

Of course, the loneliness that came with Patton striking out on his own only lead him to be more drawn to the humans, more willing to help them out and find excuses be near them. Even if he did make sure to stay out of sight and never actually interacted with them, he gradually became more comfortable around these new humans. He even grew _fond_ of them, of the loving young couple and their sweet, silly child. He enjoyed being around them, listening to their conversations and watching their interactions and pretending that he was a small part of their family.

His real family would certainly not have approved, had they known. Patton was fully aware of that.

Perhaps he should have listened.

The day that changed everything had started out like any other.

The parents went to work, the child went to school, and Patton spent much of the time they were gone collecting supplies. He even had the time to clear up a couple of cobwebs (no actual spider was to be found, thank goodness) and to clean up a small spill on the counter, left from when the humans had cooked breakfast. Patton snacked on a couple of candies from the bowl on the table as he worked.

That afternoon, when the family returned home, there was another child with them: a girl, chubby with blonde pigtails and a pink, flower-patterned dress. She was there for something that the parents called a "play date".

The life of a little was often a busy one, so Patton missed most of what had happened during this play date. All he knew was that the next time he emerged from the walls, curious to see the young visitor, the girl was crying. He didn't know why she was crying, but it made him sad to see her so upset. She was alone, the other child presumably downstairs. 

At first, Patton had waited, hoping that the sweet human child who lived in the house would return and help, but when several long minutes passed without their reappearance, Patton decided that he couldn't ignore this. Not if he wanted a clean conscience. After some debate, he finally decided that no harm could really come from a small child knowing of his existence. No adult would have believed her if she told them about him, after all. He would be quick, and he would be careful.

So, Patton had gone to try to help, or to at least distract her from her distress.

He quietly approached, ignoring how his heart hammered in his chest. This was a child, barely more than a baby, he told himself. He didn't have to be so scared.

Patton shouldn't have been so bold.

He had thought that he was far enough away, close enough to his entrance to the wall if things went south, but he was wrong. He must have underestimated the girl's reach, or simply been too surprised to react in time. In any case, as soon as the little stepped out into the open, the girl's enormous blue eyes had snapped over to focus on him, trapping him there with her intense gaze. Before Patton knew what was happening, the girl had lunged forward and grabbed him up, squeezing so tight that black spots appeared in his vision.

Tear tracks still streaked across her flushed face, she had said something to him in a demanding tone, probably asking what he was; but Patton hadn’t been able to understand in that moment, too preoccupied with his sudden terror, pain, and desperate attempts to breathe. She tightened her fist, and something in his chest audibly cracked.

She shook him when he didn’t answer, and Patton must have lost consciousness after that, because he found himself suddenly trapped in a pocket—the kind that zipped shut.

Despite the pain in his chest and how much the girl’s movements jostled him, Patton tried to get the pocket open, to no avail. He had finally been forced to accept his fate. He curled up in a ball and cried.

…

Patton wasn’t sure how long he had been here, but he knew that it had been a long time.

Marissa, as he later discovered was his captor’s name, kept Patton trapped in a shoe box beneath her bed, a few rocks weighing down the lid. He spent most of the time in that dark, empty prison, only getting to come out when Marissa decided she wanted to play with her dolls.

To her, of course, Patton as just another doll. Her favorite doll, the one she used most, but still a doll.

She didn’t like that he had a tail, claiming it looked like a “gross rat tail!”, even going so far as to to try to cut it off. Finally, though, after a long, heart-stopping standoff (if being pinned to a table and begging for your life could even be called a stand-off), he convinced her not to do it. At first, he had tried to appeal to her desire to not accidentally kill him, but he was pretty sure that he had eventually just convinced her that cutting it off would be too disgusting to be worth it. So, she mostly left it alone. Even so, the girl was far from gentle with Patton, and she was far from attentive to his needs. He always had bruises on his ribs and arms from her tight grip, and he had to beg her for food and water.

“Kiddo,” he remembered saying once, his voice cracking. “I can’t be a good toy if I’m so thirsty all the time.”

“Don’t call me kiddo!” she had snapped, slamming her pudgy hands down on the floor and making him flinch. “I’m not a baby!” Despite the yelling, she had at least gotten him the water.

On the occasions that Marissa brought him food—once every couple of days, generally—she mostly brought him cookie crumbs or bits of cracker or something similar. The food she gave him was definitely better than nothing, but he wasn’t exactly getting the nutrition he needed. After a while, Patton started living with a perpetual dizziness, aching joints, and a headache that never seemed to go away. He was almost always cold. The only reason he survived at all, he was pretty sure, were Sundays. He always looked forwards to those days. Marissa's parents insisted on giving her some kind of fresh vegetable with their dinner on those days, as much as she hated them. Patton would sometimes end up with a broccoli floret or baby carrot all to himself, even if they were usually smooshed and dirty by the time he got them. Patton knew she only sneaked those off of her plate to avoid eating them herself, but he would take what small blessings he was given.

The truly awful part of staying with Marissa was, of course, "playtime". He learned not to try to escape during those times the hard way. That particular incident led to, Patton was pretty sure, a few broken ribs and a sprained ankle.

Patton wondered every day how much longer he was going to last there.

…

Patton woke up from a restless sleep to the sound of voices. Marissa sounded excited, which was rarely a good sign. Patton pushed himself awkwardly to his feet and shuffled over to the small hole in the side of his prison, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on. His captor and her mother were talking. Something about a beach?

“Can I bring my dolls?” Marissa was asking.

“Of course, sweetheart! Just make sure you don’t lose them, okay?”

“I won’t!” Marissa’s indignant voice shouted, and Patton winced at the sound. He heard the human child’s mother laugh affectionately in response.

A pair of heavy footsteps withdrew, and the door clicked shut. Marissa’s mother was gone. Immediately, Patton heard the rapid, world-shaking footfalls that signaled Marissa’s approach. He pulled himself into a ball on the floor and waited. As expected, the entire room he was in jerked suddenly to one side as she pulled it out from under her bed. Patton would have fallen over had he been standing.

The box opened, and Patton blinked in the blinding light. Before his eyes could even begin to adjust, Marissa grabbed him, earning an involuntary yelp from the little.

“You better be good!” Marissa told him without preamble, her blonde pigtails swinging on either side of her round face.

Patton nodded meekly. “I’ll be good,” he wheezed. Marissa looked satisfied, and unceremoniously stuffed him in her pocket.

It was very stuffy in that pocket, and what with the combination of the Florida temperatures and Marissa’s body heat, Patton was soon covered in a sheen of sweat. The constant bouncing as she moved made him queasy, even if he did get a break from that aspect of the experience once the family piled into the car.

Thankfully, he was taken out of the pocket once they reached the beach.

Less ideal was the fact that Marissa apparently planned to keep Patton clenched in her fist the entire day. He knew Marissa didn’t worry about her parents noticing him, about them freaking out over what was very much not a doll. She had no reason to. Patton could never move much when Marissa had a grip on him like this, and her parents never paid that much attention to her toys anyway. She had so many, they had never even realized that her favorite was one that they had never bought her.

Besides, wouldn’t any reasonable human who saw him move conclude that it was a trick of the light? Humans didn’t know that littles existed.

…

Patton struggled uselessly in Marissa’s grip, just trying to get free enough to take a full breath of air.

He could hear laughter and conversation around him, but he wasn't able to pay much attention. He just wanted to breathe. He was getting rather lightheaded, and the sun beating down on him was far from helpful. He looked down almost wistfully at the ocean water around them. He was so thirsty. He watched the glint of the sun on the ripples. How salty could it really be?

Suddenly, he heard a loud splash and felt himself get doused with saltwater. The cold shock of the water snapped him out of his daze  and filled him with a new sense of alertness. Marissa was apparently also taken off guard: her hand loosened reflexively, and Patton took his chance on impulse.

In that split-second, Patton wriggled his way free, and _dropped_.

Had he thought to consider what he was doing, Patton probably would not have chosen to conduct his impulsive escape attempt in the ocean, of all places, but it was too late to turn back now.

He hit the water hard and felt it swallow him whole. The salt stung his eyes and his lungs ached already. He kicked weakly for what he thought was the surface, but he was so disoriented and short on oxygen that he soon just let himself go limp.

Patton broke the surface, and he gasped desperately for air.

“My doll!” a shrill voice was shrieking. “You made me drop my doll!”

The screaming seemed to give Patton a new energy, and he righted himself in the water. The shore, he had to get to shore. He had a chance to get away; he had to take it.

Patton could occasionally see the beach in flashes over the waves, but he could also see the huge expanse of water separating him from it. It surrounded him on all sides, tossing him about like he was nothing.

The odds weren’t good that Patton would make it to shore, but he knew he had to try.

Patton swam.


	2. The Beach

Patton swam.

The water seemed endless. Waves taller than his entire body splashed over him repeatedly, shoving him down and getting the salty spray in his eyes and his mouth and his lungs. The movement of the water sent him bobbing and rolling uncontrollably, which made it nearly impossible to keep his bearings. Even keeping his head above the water long enough to suck in a breath was a monumental task; trying to do anything more was nearly impossible.

During all of this, Patton was trying desperately not to panic, running purely on adrenaline.

He wasn’t sure that his efforts were actually making any progress, as disoriented and weak as he was; but during a few of the brief glimpses that Patton got of the shore, he realized that the waves seemed to be carrying him to the beach anyway. They pulled him back at least a foot for every two he advanced; but eventually, a wave carried him up onto the sand. He dug desperately into it in an attempt to keep the water from pulling him right back out again, certain that if that happened, he would drown. The wave retreated, depositing Patton on the sand. Coughing and hacking, he dragged himself forwards, only to be picked up by another wave as the tide returned. It carried him a bit further up, Patton rolling in the water. He felt as it started to pull him back out again, and Patton was nearly blinded by fear. At the last second, he spotted a white shape below, half buried in the sand. He grabbed desperately at it, searching for anything to anchor himself. The shape turned out to be a broken shell, and Patton could feel its sharp edges cutting into his flesh as the wave retreated, but he didn't have the privilege of being able to care about that. The water lifted him up, sand grains and bits of seaweed and other debris swirling around him, dragging at him with an unimaginable strength. It was only the sheer force of Patton's will, and probably quite a bit of luck, that let him keep his grip. 

Finally, that wave was gone as well, leaving Patton gasping and choking on the damp sand.

Patton let go of the shell, barely having the strength left to wince. He dragged himself up and staggered away from the ocean until he reached a part of the beach where the sand was dry. Once there, he collapsed onto his hands and knees, coughing up saltwater and trying to catch his breath. His limbs felt like gelatin, his lungs were on fire, and he was incredibly thirsty and tired. His stomach turned, and he started heaving. It felt as if the little had somehow managed to swallow half the ocean.

Patton could still faintly hear Marissa’s shrieks. The water seemed to have carried him some distance down the shoreline, but not nearly far enough. He had to get farther away.

Ignoring the impressive back flips his stomach kept performing, Patton pushed himself back to his feet on limbs that shook like that of a newborn fawn. He swayed dangerously for a moment before stumbling forward, barely keeping himself from falling.

The sand was so hot from the midday sun that it had left red marks on his skin. He could feel the heat through his makeshift shoes, which had by some miracle survived the ocean. He held his tail just aloft enough to keep it from touching the sand. Patton moved forward, listing from side to side, looking for somewhere to hide. Everywhere seemed to be open sand; nowhere seemed safe.

It looked like he had ended up at a much quieter part of the beach; but there were still a few people around, even if none paid him any attention. At one point, a human ran past and nearly stepped right on Patton. The little, startled, fell back hard on the sand. It took him a while to get up again.

After what seemed like an eternity of trudging across the beach, Patton finally spotted a shape ahead of him, partially obscured by the sand and some beach grass. Desperate for a reprieve, Patton stumbled towards it before he could tell what it was. When it came fully into view, he saw that it was a conch shell, white and pink and sunset orange. Its colors had faded in the sun, and it was clearly long empty.

Patton dropped to his knees and crawled weakly into the shell, into the small amount of shade it provided. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much cooler in here than it had been out on the beach, but at least he was out of the sun.

He vomited up some more sea water, coughing on the horribly salty taste, until finally his stomach quieted.

Utterly exhausted, Patton went limp and let his eyes drift shut, resting his head on the smooth, hard inner surface of the shell. He lay there for some time, listening to his own harsh breathing, and in the distance, the sounds of the waves and the cheers and chatter of beach goers. He drifted in and out of full awareness; but he was unwilling to let go completely for fear of  _her_  finding him, of hearing her voice, feeling her chubby fingers wrap far-too-tight around him, of seeing the grin and the warning flash of annoyance in her eyes.

Patton wasn’t sure how long he was in that shell. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. Eventually, Patton realized that he could hear sand crunching nearby. Oh, no.

He swallowed against his dry throat and lifted up his head, causing a stab of pain to shoot through it. He groaned before he could stop himself, his head falling back to the ground.

“Wow, look at this one!”

That wasn’t her voice. That was a man’s voice. It wasn’t her. Patton’s relief almost eclipsed his terror. He tried lifting his head again, and he managed to open his eyes this time. His vision was stubbornly unfocused.

Patton felt his heart rate increase. While the newcomers may not have been Marissa or her family, they were still humans. They were still dangerous.

“Excellent find.” A pause, then the same voice with a more curious tone. “There appears to be something in it. Hang on.” Patton started a little when a human face swam into view, peering down at the shell. He quickly hunched down, a pathetic attempt to hide.

“I can’t tell what it is.”

The world  ** _tilted_**.

“Don’t pick it up! What if it’s a crab or something?”

The shell fell level again, eliciting another soft, involuntary groan from Patton. “It’s not a crab,” the other voice sighed. “I think it’s an old doll, or something of the like.”

The word ‘doll’ seemed to reverberate in Patton’s skull.

No.

No, he was done being a doll.

Drawing on the very last bit of his strength, Patton forced himself to move. He pushed himself up and clambered out of the shell, leaving his small safe haven behind. The sun’s heat and light beat down on him; and Patton was briefly disoriented, the world seeming to spin around him. Confused, he blocked the sun with one arm as he tried to figure out where the human had gone.

“Holy shit.”

The human was right in front of him, of course. And there was another right behind the first. For a brief and yet indescribably drawn out second, they merely stared at each other.

Breaking out of his daze, Patton picked a direction and started to run; but his legs wouldn’t cooperate and sent him falling almost instantly. He picked himself up, tail swinging wildly in an attempt to keep his balance. He started again as he heard an alarmed shout, far too close and far too _loud_. Yet, despite Patton's efforts, he knew that he was doomed from the start. He had barely covered any distance before there was a human suddenly blocking his path, his feet sending up a spray of the scalding hot sand as he jumped in front of the little. The other human was still behind him, blocking any escape that way. Patton bit back a sob.

The fight was draining out of him, a sense of resignation taking its place. His vision fuzzed.

Quite suddenly, Patton realized his face was pressed into the hot sand, and everything faded away.


	3. Found

Logan stared at the strange, tiny creature before him, and watched as it stared right back.

“Holy shit,” he heard his companion say at his back.

Logan and his roommate, Roman, had decided to come to the beach this weekend as a sort of break from their studies--both were college students, and they did not often have completely free weekends such as this one, so they had wanted to make the most of it. The two friends had used their first day just to enjoy the sun and sand, but Logan had requested that they use part of their second day there in order to find some shells.

He remembered that when they first started, they were having some trouble finding any that weren’t either very small or already broken. After a while, Logan started to grow frustrated; so he had gone to stand for a while just on the edge of the water. The waves, much gentler than usual that day, washed over his feet intermittently.

He heard the crunch of sand as Roman approached, and at his suggestion that they move to a different portion of the beach, he retreated to follow his friend. The place Roman had in mind was less well-tended than where they had been before, but it was also much less crowded. As Roman had suspected, there were many more shells in that area, since the beach hadn’t been as thoroughly combed over.

All of that had seemed perfectly normal. But that find—the lovely conch shell, in such good condition, had been a wonderful surprise.

And now, the day’s events had grown so strange that Logan couldn’t help but wonder if he was dreaming.

Suddenly, the tiny creature—the tiny person—took off running. But something was clearly wrong. It couldn’t seem to move properly, like it was injured or sick or something.

“Catch it!” Logan shouted impulsively. He couldn’t let it get away—he didn’t even know what it was yet!

Roman snapped out of his shock enough to jump into the path the tiny person was taking, cutting it off before the poor thing had managed to move even two feet away. Everyone froze. The tiny person stared between Roman and Logan for a few seconds before its shoulders slumped. Logan felt a stab of guilt at the sense of hopelessness that its body language conveyed.

But then its knees gave out, and it collapsed to the ground. 

...

Logan knelt before the small creature and gently scooped it up out of the sand. He let the sand grains stream out between his fingers, and then turned the creature carefully onto its back, knowing it could very well suffocate if he left it on its stomach. It was completely limp in his hands, which alarmed him—perhaps more so than the fact that he and Roman had just discovered such a strange creature hiding in a shell. It seemed to be some sort of five-inch-tall humanoid wearing modified dolls’ clothes, but with a long, mouse-like tail. Logan brought it up to his face to examine it.

“Fascinating,” he couldn’t help but murmur.

“Logan!” Roman snapped. “We need to help him!”

Right, _him_ , not _it_.

Roman was glaring at him, and Logan snapped out of his scientific curiosity. “Of course. My apologies, Roman. I think it’s safe to say that we are departing now.”

Holding the tiny person as gently as he could in one hand and trying to keep the sun off of him with the other, Logan set off at a brisk pace across the beach, towards the parking lot. In his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of Roman picking up the shell he had abandoned before hurrying after him.

…

Roman sat in the front passenger seat, a towel folded up in his lap. The tiny mouse-tailed person they had found lay on top of the towel, still motionless.

It was well over two hours’ drive back to their house, during which neither passenger could help but occasionally simply stare at their find (although Logan only did so when they were stopped in traffic or at a stoplight, prioritizing safety even in this situation).

“How do we even know he’s still alive?” Roman whispered at one point, breaking a long silence.

“I suppose we don’t,” Logan admitted. They couldn’t exactly check the pulse of a creature so small. Roman hadn’t been able to tell if it was breathing, and it—he hadn’t moved in the slightest since his collapse. It was a disappointing possibility that they were already too late. Not only would it be a sorrowful thing to have failed to help the creature, but Logan wanted to study it. He wanted to know what it was, how it could possibly exist. Did it possess a human-like intelligence? Could it speak? Understand English? Read? Write? Were there more creatures like it?

Even despite these doubts, though, Logan truly believed that the creature was still alive. He just needed their help.

Meanwhile, Roman was just staring down at the creature, worry clouding his expression.

…

Roman decided to operate under the assumption that their discovery was, in fact, still alive. He would prefer to not consider the alternative too seriously yet.

The poor—whatever he was—was still covered in sand grains and salt from the beach, so Roman reached over and grabbed a water bottle from the cup holder at his side. He was pretty sure that if he used one of the ones in the cooler for this, the tiny mouse-man could go into shock, but this one was warm from being left in the car at the beach. As Logan drove, Roman dampened a napkin (Logan always kept some in his car) in the water and started to very gently clean off the sand and salt. He bit his lip when the tiny mouse-man still didn’t wake up.

He cleaned off one of his arms first, not putting too much pressure for fear of hurting him. When he got to the hand, he paused, seeing a long cut across the palm. Roman cleaned it off carefully. A bit of blood beaded up when he took away the napkin. Roman felt an ache in his chest. He shifted his gaze to the mouse-man’s chest again, and his breath caught when he saw a small spasm go through it. He watched a moment longer, wondering if he had imagined it, but sure enough, the tiny mouse-man coughed again. It still didn’t look like he would wake up any time soon, but….

“Logan, he’s breathing.”

Logan kept looking ahead, but Roman noticed that their car picked up speed.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Roman asked as he started cleaning off the tiny mouse-man’s other arm.

“That is difficult to say,” Logan admitted. “It appears that at some point he ended up in the ocean, to have gotten so much salt on his clothes. I must admit my ignorance on his biology clouds any judgments I might make, but my hypothesis is that he had a near drowning experience. No doubt he is exhausted and dehydrated. We will help him.”

That wasn’t the most optimistic response Logan could have given him, Roman noted.

“What is he?” he asked instead

“I have no idea,” said Logan.


	4. Taking Care

Patton felt strange.

He wasn’t quite awake, but he knew that the world was shaking, and he felt oddly as if he were moving. It reminded him of being in a car. Were he and Marissa in a car? He couldn’t remember.

He thought he felt something brush against his hand. It stung a little, but distantly. He tried to open his eyes, but found his eyelids were too heavy.

That was weird, but Patton was too tired to figure this out right now. He just wanted to sleep.

…

Roman was still getting salt and sand off of the tiny mouse-man’s clothes. He very gently nudged up his shirt to clean off his stomach; and he brushed away some sand grains, salt, and a scrap of algae that had gotten stuck there. Once those were cleared away, the human tensed at what he saw. “Logan.”

“What?”

“Pull over.”

Logan found a spot to stop, put on the hazard lights, and turned to Roman in annoyance. “What could possibly merit us pulling over on the side of the highway at this precise moment?”

“Look at this.” Roman pulled up the five-inch-tall man’s shirt again, revealing the bruises that covered his torso. They were in varying stages of healing: whatever had caused them had clearly been repeated over a long period of time.

“That is not from falling in the ocean,” Logan said, although both of them knew that this comment was unnecessary.

…

“What do we do with him?” Roman asked. They had arrived back at the apartment that he and Logan shared, Roman very carefully carrying the tiny mouse-man in on the folded towel.

“First, we address any injuries that we can at this moment. However, there is much that we cannot do unless—” Logan stopped himself. “Until he wakes up.” He strode forward to their kitchen table. “Set him here, please.” He reached up and pulled the chain to turn on the light over the table. “This should be a decent work area.”

Roman gently lay down the towel, trying not to jostle the tiny mouse-man too much as he removed his arms from underneath it.

For a short time after that, Roman finished up cleaning the salt and sand from the tiny mouse-man’s clothing and skin. Once he was done with that, he and Logan patched up the poor thing. In addition to the bruises on his torso (and, it turned out upon closer inspection, his lower arms), something had caused him to cut open his hands, and there was an older cut on his back. Roman smeared some antibiotic cream over each cut, as Logan had thought it would be okay. He let Logan take care of actually bandaging them, since he had steadier hands, and admittedly more patience. After they finished tending to that, Roman spent quite some time simply sitting there at their patient’s side and watching over him.

He was  _so_   _small_.

Roman gently looped the tiny mouse-man’s tail around his finger, gazing at it in wonder. It looked just like a mouse tail, if a little longer. Roman wasn’t much of a rodent-lover, but this was amazing.

Logan left for a moment and returned holding a small class of water, a few napkins, and a laptop. He set the laptop to the side for now. “We need to try to get him to drink as much water as we can,” he said. “He no doubt has swallowed an unsafe amount of seawater, which could prove dangerous.”

Roman nodded. “Okay, but… we don’t know how long it’ll be until he wakes up.”

Logan nodded, pressing his hands against his face in clear frustration. “Yes, I am aware.”

“So, what else can we do now?” Roman pressed.

“I am going to do some research. Please keep a close eye on him. If he wakes up, or moves, or anything changes, please alert me.”

“Got it.” Normally Roman would add a clever nickname here, but he was perfectly aware that now wasn’t the time.

Logan started looking for something, anything, about what sort of creature the mouse-man they had found might be, but there was nothing that he could find other than some old book series about “borrowers”. But that was fiction, and besides, they mentioned nothing about mouse tails.

After a few hours, the tiny mouse-man’s tail, which Roman had been holding onto gently and running his thumb over absently, curled loosely around his finger. Roman thought he imagined it at first; but when he looked towards his face, he watched his head turn to the side a fraction, his eyebrows furrowing.

…

“Logan, look.”

Logan glanced over as Roman hissed out his name to see that the tiny human-like creature had begun to stir. A groan, barely audible, escaped its lips.

Roman started murmuring reassurances to the creature while Logan started looking through the supplies he’d put on the table at his side.

 _He probably doesn’t understand you_ , Logan wanted to point out, but he decided that there was little point in doing so.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Roman was saying. “You’re safe. How are you feeling? Can you hear me?”

Logan turned back as the tiny creature’s eyes flickered half open. They looked glazed, not quite focused as they peered up in Roman’s general direction.

Roman and Logan shared a glance.

“Hi,” his roommate murmured, leaning in closer. “I’m Roman. This is my buddy, Logan. We’re gonna take care of you, okay?”

Logan couldn’t bring himself to be surprised that their patient didn’t seem to hear him, let alone understand. But then he blinked, and fear started to dawn on his face.

“No, no, no,” Roman said in alarm, pulling back a bit, perhaps realizing that his proximity might make his size even more frightening. “It’s okay; don’t be scared.”

Logan sat back in his chair, figuring Roman was better suited to handle bedside manner.

“Do you have a name?” Roman was asking in a soft voice.

The creature didn’t answer, but Logan got the feeling that that was more out of fear than anything else.

Logan nudged his friend and handed him a scrap of napkin that he’d dampened with a water bottle. “See if he’ll take this,” he murmured.

Roman nodded and very slowly brought the bit of napkin towards the creature. It seemed alarmed by the approaching hand, attempting to scoot backwards on the towel without much success. Roman looked sad, but he held out the napkin regardless. “It’s water. It’ll make you feel better.”

After a long moment, the creature held out tentative hands and grabbed the napkin. With visible hesitation, he finally put it in his mouth. His eyes closed briefly in relief: he must have been very thirsty. Logan was right about that.

His eyes opened again, watching the two humans with an exhausted wariness even as he attempted to get all of the moisture he could from the napkin.

…

The tiny mouse-man was still very disoriented and weak, but Roman and Logan managed to get him to take down a decent amount of water using their method of dampening torn pieces of napkin. It was the best they could really do given their drastic difference in size and their patient’s current state.

Soon, though, despite his obvious, persistent fears, the tiny mouse-man drifted off again. They hadn’t gotten him to drink as much water as Logan would have preferred, but it was certainly better than nothing.

“I am going out to buy some supplies. We will need some new things if we are going to care properly for our guest,” Logan announced, his voice quiet. He closed his laptop and stood, reaching for his bag. “I will return shortly.”

“What sort of supplies?” Roman asked curiously.

“Well, we will need to keep him somewhere,” Logan replied. “And we will also require food and other potential necessities for him.”

Roman shrugged, turning his attention back to the little mouse-man as Logan retreated.

He hoped the little guy would be okay.


	5. Awake

****“Are you serious?” Roman asked when Logan returned, staring at what he was carrying inside.

“It was the best option I could think of,” Logan sighed. “Unless you have a better alternative.”

Roman just gave him a look, so Logan continued, “We can’t risk him wandering off while we’re gone. You know as well as I do that he wouldn’t make it a day on his own right now. At least this way he’ll be safe, and he can see outside just fine.”

Roman let out a reluctant sigh, looking unhappily down to where the tiny mouse-man slept on, unaware of the conversation taking place above him. “Fine. But this is  _temporary_.”

“Obviously.”

…

The first thing Patton noticed when he woke up was the bars above him. He was in a cage. That alone would have been enough to alarm him, but he couldn’t remember how he got there. And, well… he felt like garbage. Garbage of the sort that not even a little could make use of.

_Where am I?_

He rolled over onto his side, realizing in the process that he seemed to be lying on a makeshift bed of some kind. He was trying to put together what had happened after he fell into the water at the beach, but he found it frustratingly difficult. It might have helped if his head would stop pounding.

What was going on? How had he gotten here? Had Marissa decided he was a pet now, not a doll? Did her parents know about him? Maybe Marissa had hurt him when she caught him and had needed her parents’ help. But didn’t she usually just stick him back in his box to deal with that sort of thing himself? Was he with somebody else now, somehow? Patton very much didn’t like the idea that more people knew about him. If being with Marissa had any upsides at all, it was that she kept him a secret.

Patton’s thoughts were racing. He realized that his heart was pounding, and he was close to hyperventilating with how afraid he was.

 _You have to calm down_ , he told himself, trying to take a few deep breaths. It was hard not to let his imagination run away from him when he was so frightened. But who could blame him? His current situation didn’t line up at all with the last thing he remembered. Patton had patchy memories of an escape attempt, but from the looks of where he was, he was still far from free. He wished he knew what had happened. Everything after Marissa brought him to the beach was jumbled and indistinct, hard to make any sense of.

He knew one thing, though. He had to find a way out of this cage.

Patton pulled himself to the edge of the bed and tumbled off of it, falling to the floor with an “Oof!” The impact wasn’t as hard as he would have expected, but a dull pain shot through him regardless. He kept going, trying to get to the bars.

“You’re awake!” A sudden, very  _loud_  voice exclaimed. Patton flinched and covered his ears, somehow managing to cower even as he lay on the surprisingly soft floor of the cage.

“Oh, shoot, sorry,” the voice said, softer now. Patton swallowed thickly and dared to look up. A human stared back at him, all wide brown eyes and freckles and  _size_. He looked familiar, but Patton was too frightened to figure out how he could possibly know him.

“Do you remember me? You’ve been pretty out of it the past day or so. I’m Roman.”

Patton didn’t move, continuing to stare with wide, terrified eyes.

“Can you understand me?”

Patton still didn’t respond.

“Uh…  _¿me entiendes?_ ” the human tried again, sounding doubtful. Patton blinked in confusion.

The human—Roman—sighed and reached for the latch on the cage door. Patton curled up, cowering and bracing for what was to come.

“Oh—hey, wait, it’s okay.” Patton looked up to see Roman drawing his hand back from the cage, his expression hurt. “I just thought you might want out of there.”

Oh, Patton did very much want out. But he didn’t want to be held by a human, or interact with a human, or ever see a human again. This man may have not been that horrible girl, but he was still a human. He curled up, putting his arms around his knees, only to freeze.

Who had wrapped up his hands?

He stared at them for a second, then looked up towards Roman.

“My buddy Logan did that,” Roman said. “I guess you wouldn’t remember. You cut your hands pretty badly. How are they feeling?”

They hurt, that was how they felt. But… Patton would have expected much worse. Now that he thought about it, he vaguely remembered hanging onto a broken shell as saltwater swirled around him, attempting to drag him away. He remembered the stab of pain in his hands.

He still couldn’t let this human know he could understand him, though. Patton didn’t think that was a safe thing to do. His days of seeing the best in humans had long since ended.

“You really don’t understand me, do you,” Roman sighed, his shoulders sagging. It wasn’t a question.

Patton watched him in silence.

“That’s… that’s okay, I guess. Logan’ll be disappointed, though. I guess I’ll just… let you rest a bit. I know you don’t know what I’m saying, but there’s some food and water in those dishes over there.” The human very slowly lifted his hand, pointing towards the left of Patton while making a clear attempt to not get close enough to scare him again. The little lifted himself up enough to follow where he was pointing, and he saw that there really was some sort of small container on that side of the cage.

Roman shuffled backwards, looking lost, and then left the room. Once he was gone, Patton picked himself up, using the bars of the cage to pull himself to his feet. He swayed for a second, but found his balance, and made his way over to the dishes, staying where he could grab onto the bars if he needed to. He was very thirsty, and maybe there would be something in the dish besides the crumbs Marissa would bring him.

He dropped to his knees at the left side of the cage. There was a bottlecap there, filled with water, which Patton reached for first. He was too weak to lift it at the moment, and he couldn’t scoop it out with his hands without ruining the bandages, so he just lowered his face down to the water and drank that way, like a dog—Patton hadn’t cared much about dignity in some time. He drank until finally, his throat stopped feeling like sandpaper. He then dragged himself over to the food dish and peered inside. He was a little bewildered to see a variety of seeds inside, as well as some nuts and cut up vegetables. Did the humans think he was a hamster?

Either way, Patton reached in and grabbed a partially shelled sunflower seed. He pulled out the kernel and chewed on it, relishing the taste as he leaned his back against the side of the dish. Not only was it nice to eat something that wasn’t one of the crumbs Marissa would give him, but he was starving.

How long ago had he last eaten? Marissa had given him a piece of cereal the day before they’d gone to the beach, but Roman had said that he’d been here a while. So… two days, maybe? Three?

He finished his sunflower seed, reached back into the dish, and pulled out a chunk of some sort of vegetable. He ate as much of that as he could, and then took another long drink of water. This time, he used the shell from the sunflower seed as a cup.

His head was starting to clear a bit thanks to the food and water, and Patton looked around the cage. The bars separated him from the larger room of the human house, but he still felt very exposed. Maybe there was something he could do about that while he tried to figure this all out. Nothing he could do would be much of a defense, if any, against the humans, but it might make him feel better.

…

When Logan got home from his after-school-job that evening, Roman informed him that the “mouse-man”, as his roommate had apparently dubbed him, was awake and fully aware of what was going on.   
“He doesn’t understand me, though, Logan,” he had added upon seeing the excitement flash in his eyes. “And he’s scared. I’ve just been leaving him alone.”

“Oh. That is unfortunate. However, I would still like to look in on him.”

Upon entering the other room and approaching the cage, Logan saw that its contents had been somewhat rearranged. The food dish and bottlecap had been pushed into the corner of the cage, and the scrap of fabric that had served as a blanket on the makeshift bed (which was itself just a folded-up washcloth) was gone. Between the dishes and the cage wall, Logan finally spotted the tiny creature himself, curled up as small as possible under the blanket. Like he was trying to hide.

Logan thought of the bruises that Roman had found on the creature’s torso, and he felt suddenly sad.

He cleared his throat, and the “mouse-man” shifted under the blanket.

“I trust you are feeling better?” Logan ventured. He didn’t get an immediate response, but he just stood there, waiting patiently to see if one came.

Eventually, a tiny head poked out from under the blanket. Light reddish-brown hair stuck up in different directions, tired but bright eyes focusing on Logan.

Logan decided to keep talking. Even if the creature couldn’t understand, he hoped that the soft monotone of his voice would come across as soothing. “It is good to see you awake. Roman and I have had you here for a little over a day—roughly thirty hours, I believe. You were awake, more or less, for some of the time, but I would not be overly surprised if you have no recollection of it.” He looked for a second at the sight before him, realizing one of the probable sources of the creature’s distress. Even if he couldn’t understand, Logan still wanted to explain. “I must apologize for the cage. It is unideal; but Roman and I are unable to be here to watch you at all times; and in your state, I was concerned that if you awoke, you might wander off and be harmed. You went through quite an ordeal: My impression was that you nearly drowned. My roommate and I were lucky to find you when we did—we found you on the beach while we were out collecting shells.” He reached over onto a side table and grabbed something, bringing it up to show his patient. “Shells. Like this? Do you remember that?”

The tiny man’s eyes had locked onto the conch shell as soon as it came into view. Logan could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“That—,” The creatures eyes went wide, and he suddenly clapped his hands over his mouth. (That must’ve hurt, Logan thought, given the bandages).

“You  _can_  understand me, can’t you?” Logan realized. Excitement started to bubble in his chest before he could stop it.


	6. A New Face

Patton stared at the shell that the human held in his hands, eyes wide.

He remembered how he knew the humans, now. They had found him on the beach, taking shelter in a shell after dragging himself free of Marissa’s and then the ocean’s clutches. They had trapped him. And then… well, Patton wasn’t really sure what had happened after that.

“That—.” The exclamation of realization escaped him before he could stop it, and Patton clapped his hands over his mouth as if it had offended him. He barely noticed the pain that throbbed through his hands in protest.

“You  _can_  understand me, can’t you?” the human said, sounding almost giddy, and a suddenly distraught Patton let his hands fall from his face. He bowed his head in defeat, shoulders starting to shake with stress.

He had hoped that, maybe, things wouldn’t be so bad for him if the humans thought he was just a dumb animal. His family had always told him to never speak to humans, and while he hadn’t listened to them about not  _helping_  humans, he had always followed that first rule as much as possible. Until now, the only human he’d ever spoken to had been  _her_.

The human—Logan—didn’t seem so giddy anymore, but rather alarmed, apparently realizing Patton was upset.

“Oh, dear. I apologize. I did not intend to upset you.”

Patton didn’t dare look up, but he watched the human in his periphery to make sure he didn’t come any closer.

“May I ask what happened to you?”

Patton swallowed hard, wrapping his arms around his knees more tightly. He was still shaking.

Another voice—Roman’s, he thought—came from the neighboring room, just out of Patton’s view. “Hey, Logan, maybe those questions can wait.”

“Right. Of course,” Logan said, giving himself a little nod. He glanced over towards Patton again. “My apologies again. Is there anything I can get you? Some more water? Is the food okay? I admit we were unsure of what you might eat, so we went for some of the foods that are common between humans and mice, based on your physiology.”

Despite being a little overwhelmed by the questions, Patton found himself glancing towards the nearly-empty water dish before he could stop himself. He realized belatedly that this human—Logan—had followed his gaze. Patton’s arms tightened around his knees.

“I’ll get you some more water,” Logan said. He took a step towards the cage, seemed to think better of it, and then left the room.

The first human, the one from before, stepped into Patton’s view once his friend left. He and Patton looked at each other for a moment before Patton looked away, shifting under his blanket.

“Are you cold?” he asked, and Patton noticed that he was still keeping his voice very soft. Patton didn’t respond other than pulling the blanket more tightly around himself.  

Logan returned a moment later, carrying a bottlecap identical to the one already in Patton’s cage.

“I have to open the door, now,” he said, looking at Patton, who mentally braced himself, but didn’t show a visible reaction. Shrugging to himself, Logan reached up to the latch and squeezed it to release the door. It squeaked, making Patton wince. He squeezed himself down into the corner, trying to somehow get further into it.

All the human did, though, was set the bottlecap on the cage floor, close the door again, and step back.

He and the other human glanced at each other, and then both left the room. Patton could hear the two of them seeming to argue in hushed tones. Were they deciding what to do with him? How long they’d keep him here before they… did whatever they were going to do with him?

Hot tears sprung up in his eyes, and Patton hurriedly rubbed them away on his shirt. Marissa never liked it when he showed emotion.

_“Stop it! Dolls don’t cry! You’re gonna ruin my game!”_

Patton hunched down even further under the blanket. He heard the humans’ footsteps retreating to another part of the building, but the little didn’t let that fool him into thinking he was safe.

…

“I’m tired of arguing, Roman,” Logan said as Roman followed him into another room. “I’ve already told you, I don’t like keeping him in there any more than you do, but it’s the safest option right now.”

“I’m not here about that,” Roman sighed. “I just wanted to let you know I’m going to turn down the AC.” He leaned on the doorframe. “Is that okay with you?”

Logan looked a little befuddled, so Roman explained, “I think he might be cold.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t mind.”

“Okay. I just wanted to check.” He hesitated. “Also… I know you said you wanted to check on him every half hour, but what do you think about just leaving him alone for now? So that he can just hang out a while and get his bearings? He seems a lot better than before; I don’t think anything’s going to happen.”

Logan looked a little conflicted, but finally, he nodded. “We can give him a couple hours.”

Roman nodded and stepped back out of the room, heading towards the thermostat in the hallway.

…

The humans didn’t return for a long time.

At one point, Patton was brave enough to creep forward and drag the new bottlecap back into the corner with him. It took him much longer than he felt it should have, which was frustrating. Even so, even while he was out in the open like that, no one came after him.

He settled back into his corner with his blanket, food, and water, curling up there under the blanket.

He couldn’t help but notice that while he’d been a little cold earlier, he was nice and warm now, snuggled up in the corner of the cage. The warmth made him sleepy, but he was doing his best to stay alert.

Nothing too terrible had happened to Patton yet with these humans, even if he was trapped, but… how long would that last?

…

“Hey,” A voice hissed. “Are you okay?”

Patton blinked groggily, lifting his head, trying to clear away the fog on his mind. He had been half-dozing, not wanting to fall asleep for fear of the humans returning, but too tired to stay fully awake. He looked around for who had spoken.

Another little stood on the other side of the cage wall. His small hands held onto the bars as he peered down at Patton with a mixture of concern and wariness.

Patton was immediately wide awake. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen another little. He stood up, the blanket falling away. His head pounded in protest; and he swayed forwards; but he caught himself on the bars, just in front of the other little’s face. Patton knew how desperately hopeful he must look.

“I’m okay now.”

“Have they hurt you?” The other little asked.

Patton considered. Now that he thought about it, no—these humans hadn’t hurt him. Other than putting him in a cage, they hadn’t done anything too bad. If anything, they had helped him. They might have even saved his life. Patton was dumbfounded by the realization.

The little was still waiting for an answer.

“…No, they haven’t.”

The newcomer didn’t look convinced, his eyes going to Patton’s bandaged hands, but he just nodded. “Let’s get you out of there, then.” Still holding tightly onto the bars, he started making his way to the front of the cage, to the door. Patton was startled to see that he walked with a heavy limp, barely putting any weight on his left foot. When he looked closer, he noticed that he was also missing the last quarter of his tail.

“Oh, kiddo, what on earth happened to you?” Patton breathed.

“You’re the one in the cage and you’re asking what happened to  _me?_ ” he replied incredulously.

Patton couldn’t argue with that.

He made his way to the door of the cage, and together, he and the other little worked to pull down on the latch. It was firmly in place, but with a considerable amount of effort, it shifted.

A loud, grating squeak echoed through the room. Both of them froze.


	7. Jailbreak

Patton heard footsteps approaching. He and the other little both let go of the latch instantly, letting it snap back in place. The other little moved away, and Patton waved frantically for him to run. The little hesitated just a fraction of a second before grabbing the bars and using them to move back towards the corner where Patton had been. Patton finally noticed that lying on the table just outside the bars were a pair of what looked like homemade crutches.

He grabbed them and hobbled out of sight just as Roman entered the room, looking confused.

“Was that you?” he asked, peering down at Patton, who was still conspicuously close to the cage door.

Patton knew it would be worse to lie. Swallowing his fear, he nodded. At least this way, he could protect the other little.

“You want out?” Roman clarified.

Patton couldn’t bring himself to respond.

“Of course, you do, how stupid of me,” Roman sighed. He reached up and unlatched the cage door effortlessly. He reached in through the door and Patton’s eyes went wide. He scrambled back so fast that the back of his knees hit the edge of the food dish, and he fell backwards into it with a cry.

…

Roman stared in horror at the terrified mouse-man. He was doing this all wrong, wasn’t he? He was only going to offer the little guy a ride on his palm, but the way he reacted was so fearful, one would think Roman had been about to….

Oh, god, the bruises on his torso—were they from…?

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he said, snatching his hand back like he’d been burned. The cage door hung open, the tiny mouse-man staring up at him in terror from where he’d fallen.

Roman took a step back, staring, before he hurried out of the room again. He didn’t know what to do, and so his first instinct was to flee. In his haste, he forgot to close the cage door.

…

Patton pulled himself back up to his feet, clambering out of the food dish. He was still shaking like a leaf, unable to banish the image of the human’s enormous hand reaching towards him from his mind. He took a deep breath, and then finally realized that Roman had left the cage door hanging open. He stared at it for a moment. He could get out. It was open. But was it a trap?

“Hey,” a voice hissed, barely audible from where he was. “What are you waiting for?”

Patton looked around and spotted the little from before peering out from behind a stack of books. He gestured urgently at Patton to move.

Patton shakily approached the door. He listened for any sign that the humans were approaching, but so far, heard none. He climbed out onto the open cage door (it swung down on a hinge) and hopped down onto the table. He immediately lost his balance and fell, having momentarily forgotten his unsteadiness.

…

The newcomer swore when he saw the captured little fall over just outside the cage. He grabbed his crutches and hurried to his side.

“Come on, you have to get up!” he hissed.

The little was already sitting up, albeit sluggishly, and holding his head like it pained him.

“Come on,” he repeated. He pinned one of his crutches under his arm and reached out a hand to help the other little up.

“Thanks,” the little said breathlessly, accepting what help he could provide. “I’m Patton.”

“Virgil,” he replied quickly. “Now let’s go already.”

…

 _Virgil._ Patton committed the name to memory.

The two of them hurried towards the edge of the table. Patton was encumbered by his weakness, but Virgil’s crippled foot didn’t seem to slow him down when he could use his crutches.

Virgil hesitated at the edge, apparently realizing how difficult it was going to be to get Patton down from here.

“How bad are your hands?” he asked.

Patton looked down at them. They were neatly bandaged, but now small spots of blood were visible where the cuts had partially reopened—probably while trying to open the latch on the cage earlier.

“I’ll be okay.”

“No…” Virgil looked around, a frustrated expression on his face. Patton felt bad.

“You could just leave me,” he said softly. “They haven’t hurt me or anything….”

“You’d rather stay with _humans?_ ” Virgil asked in disbelief.

Patton looked down. No, he didn’t want to stay with humans. They may have helped him, but as the fact that he’d woken up in a cage exemplified, it was only a matter of time until things turned for the worst. “I just don’t want you in danger, kiddo.”

“There has to be a way down.”

“How did you get up here?”

“I climbed.” Patton’s surprise must have accidentally made it into his expression, for Virgil rolled his eyes and added, “Just ‘cause my foot’s messed up doesn’t mean I’m completely useless. I can adapt.”

Patton nodded. “Sorry.” He knew they didn’t have much time until the humans inevitably returned. “I can climb,” he said. “It’ll be easier, going down, anyway…” he added, mostly to himself.

Virgil sighed, but he could clearly see no better option, so he nodded. He led Patton to the edge of the table and sat down there. He unraveled a string that was tied around his middle and used it to secure his crutches to his back.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

…

The table legs turned out to have a decorative design carved in them, luckily for the littles. Patton didn’t think they would have been able to climb down without a hook or anything otherwise. Virgil went down first, easing his right foot down onto a groove that served as a foothold, not even letting his left one touch the wood. He must’ve had really strong arms.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Virgil checked once more, looking up at where Patton sat on the table’s edge. Patton nodded, setting his jaw in determination.

Virgil started to climb down, panting slightly with the exertion that came with climbing down what was essentially a vertical cliff face to a little, and with only one usable foot.

Patton tried to ignore how his limbs shook as he clung to the table leg, unused to physical activity after so long confined and further weakened by recent events, and the way he got dizzy the moment he started climbing down. While they probably wouldn’t die if they fell from this height, it would certainly hurt.

Virgil stayed slightly below and to Patton’s left, probably so that he could help if it looked like Patton might fall. He reached out a few times to steady Patton or guide him to a more secure foothold; and at one point, he had to climb up and put a hand on Patton’s back when he grew overly lightheaded, doing what he could to help until it passed and he was able to continue.

Patton could tell that Virgil was starting to regret even offering him the chance to escape, but the near-stranger never left him behind.

“Almost there,” he said.

Patton hadn’t quite believed him when he said it, but it turned out to be true. The little, relieved and wanting to be done with this as quickly as possible, dropped the couple of inches down to the floor. His legs buckled immediately, and he fell in a heap at the base of the table leg. “Ow,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. He was aware of Virgil climbing down to the floor beside him. There was a ruffling sound, and then a hand was on his shoulder, shaking him.

“Come on, we can’t stop yet,” he said, not unsympathetically, before removing his hand.

Patton reopened his eyes to see Virgil untying his crutches from behind his back. He positioned them under his arms and reached to help Patton up. Patton took his hand and stood on shaky legs.

 “This way,” Virgil directed, looking Patton over briefly before heading towards the wall.

They started off together, Virgil making a clear effort to slow down for Patton’s benefit. He could move pretty fast on those crutches.

They were almost there when Patton heard the floor-shaking footsteps of a human approaching. Oh, no. He tried to speed up, but without much success. He listed to the side as he staggered, almost falling, but Virgil’s damaged tail wrapped around him and pulled him back up.

“Thanks,” he gasped.

The footsteps stopped, very close now, and then a voice boomed out. “Roman!”

Both littles practically jumped out of their skin, Patton automatically covering his ears.

“Do you have him? Where is he?”

Another set of footsteps approached. Virgil and Patton were in the open. Patton still couldn’t run, and since Virgil needed his crutches, he couldn’t do much to help.

Logan, towering impossibly tall above them, had noticed Patton’s absence. Already he was scanning the floor, searching for the little.

“No, I don’t, he was too scared to—oh!” The second human had arrived, staring in shock at the open cage door. Realization dawned in his eyes.

…

Patton and Virgil were inching towards the wall.

“Find him, quickly. But watch where you step!”

“You don’t say, Sherlock? I never would have thought of that.”

“Hold onto my jacket,” Virgil hissed. He waited until he felt a hand fasten in the fabric before he turned and hurried forward, moving as rapidly as his crutches and crippled leg would allow. He all but dragged Patton behind him. If they could just get to where the window curtain reached the floor, they could—.

“Look at this,” one of the humans said, crouching.

They were looking at something smudged on the table leg they’d climbed down. Virgil glanced back and saw that the bandages on Patton’s free hand were soaked with red.

They’d left a trail.

…

Patton looked up, watching as the humans followed the trail down to the floor. It was only a matter of seconds until they figured out where he was. In a split-second decision, Patton released Virgil’s jacket and shoved him forwards, barely managing to not send himself falling inadvertently. The other little reacted with a muffled shout of surprise and—Patton would feel guilty about this forever—pain, as he landed a little closer to the curtain, a little closer to safety.

Patton turned, wobbling slightly as he did so, and took a few shaky steps the other way, back towards the humans. Despite the ache in his chest, he accepted his fate.

…

Patton was back in the cage.

He hadn’t been able to help but quake with fear as one of the humans—he was too afraid to even notice which it was—had gently scooped him up with a relieved, “There you are.”

The humans had seemed alarmed when he saw the state of his hands, the one who held him scolding him about the dangers of aggravating his wounds, of wandering around on the floor where he could so easily have been stepped on. Were he less afraid, Patton would have noticed that when they picked him up, there was none of the harshness or carelessness that he was used to with Marissa; and he would have noticed that there was only concern in their voices, and no anger. As it was, all Patton knew was that they were upset. When humans got upset, bad things happened.

The human holding him grew quiet when Patton only continued to shake, eyes tightly closed.

After that, the human had simply rebandaged his hands in silence. Patton still didn’t even dare to open his eyes.

At least Virgil was safe. 


	8. Patton and Virgil Character Designs




	9. Building Trust

Logan stared down at the tiny creature in the cage, not knowing what to do. He could understand why he was so frightened—he’d woken up in a strange place, after all, with probably little idea as to how he’d gotten there.  And judging by the injuries on his torso and arms, his life prior to them finding him had been far from ideal, even before his near-drowning. The creature was bound to be experiencing emotional distress. Logan just didn’t know how to make it better.

“Don’t be scared. You don’t have to be scared,” Roman pleaded quietly, but his plea appeared to fall on deaf ears.

He and Logan shared a glance, each looking lost.

…

“What should I do?” Roman finally asked, addressing not Logan, but the mouse-man.

At first, the little mouse-man only continued to shake, but based on his body language, the moment was clear when he realized that Roman was speaking to  _him_.  

He lifted his small head, looking confused. It looked to Roman like he was trying not to cry.

“Let me go?” he whispered.

“We—we will,” Roman said, feeling heartbroken. “Of _course,_  we will. We just want to make sure you’re okay first.”

The tiny person didn’t seem to believe him, only burying his face in his knees.

…

“I think maybe we should let him go.”

Roman was standing in the doorway to Logan’s room, his expression serious.

“What?” Logan said, incredulous. “He can barely stand! He wasn’t even coherent until this afternoon. Even putting that aside, you saw the state of his hands as well as I did.”

“I know, but… he just looks so unhappy.”

“You’re not thinking this through. If we let him go now, there is no way he will make it on his own. We don’t even know where he’s from, anyway. I doubt that shell was his home. What we need to do is explain the situation to him, get him back to optimum health, and then decide where to go from there.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want a chance to study him? Get a big, important, scientific discovery under your belt before you turn thirty?”

Logan seemed lost for words for once, clearly hurt and offended at the accusation.

Roman groaned, putting his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, it’s just—it feels too much like kidnapping to me. I know we can’t just take him to a freaking hospital, but he doesn’t want to be here, and I don’t know how to change his mind! It’s just… frustrating.”

Logan looked away, sighing heavily. “Agreed.”

…

Patton found himself left alone again.

Would Virgil come back for him? Part of him hoped that he would, but the other part hoped that he would stay away, where it was safer. Virgil had clearly already suffered enough, and with his leg he was in even more danger than most other littles would be in a rescue attempt.

But, still, Patton wanted very much to see him again.

…

Logan eventually reentered the living room, the room their guest was in, alone. He and Roman had been discussing what to do with their guest and how best to go about caring for him. While both roommates wanted to stay home and take care of the small creature, they still had classes to attend and projects to work on.  They were also trying to figure out how to reconcile the fact that they were still keeping him in a cage. Logan wished that the person in it knew that they were truly only trying to help.

And as part of their attempts to convince him of this, Logan’s intent right now was to apologize to their guest for scaring him.

Logan approached the cage slowly, staying quiet so as to not frighten its occupant. He made sure his feet made quiet scuffing noises on the carpet so he wouldn’t startle him, either. He peered in, expecting the tiny man to be watching him, only to find that he was asleep. He was sitting up in the corner, back against the cage wall. The food dish and bottlecap were at his side, the blanket laid over his legs. His head hung down, his chin resting on his sternum. Logan guessed that he had been trying to keep watch on the room, waiting for the humans to return, when he fell asleep.

No doubt he would panic if he woke up and saw that Logan had gotten so close without his notice, so the college student crept silently back out of the room.

He could return in the morning.

…

“How’s he doing?” Roman asked when Logan cracked open his bedroom door.

“He was asleep when I looked in on him. He’s had a stressful day, but he seemed to be doing okay, all things considered.”

“I want to talk to him tomorrow,” Roman said. “I just… I don’t want to keep him here like a prisoner.”

“If you think it would help, then I’m all for it,” Logan said. “But considering his reactions so far, I am unsure of how positive the outcome will be.”

“I have to try.”

“I know.”

…

Patton blinked, groggily lifting his head a fraction.

He’d fallen asleep.

Snapping awake, Patton jerked his head up and looked around the cage and the room beyond, rubbing his neck to get rid of the slight crick in it. Early morning light filtered into the room through soft gray curtains, illuminating the space. There were no humans in sight. Nothing had moved, as far as he could tell. He was alone. He was okay.

Patton took a deep, steadying breath.

He was okay.

…

Logan had a very early class the next day. Apparently, he’d wanted to talk to the little mouse-man before he left, but he’d still been asleep when Logan had to leave, so he was putting it off until that afternoon. He texted Roman from the school to tell him this, since Roman had also still been asleep at the time, like any normal person would have wanted to be.

Roman, meanwhile, skipped his first class that day. He sent an email to his professor claiming illness (lying may have been wrong, but he couldn’t exactly tell her the real reason he wasn’t coming). He had decided the night before what he wanted to do to try to gain the little mouse-man’s trust.

So, now, to put his plan into action, Roman carefully approached the cage. He was carrying a kitchen chair with him. He could feel the eyes of the tiny mouse-man tracking him.

“Good morning,” he said, setting down the chair in front of the table the cage was on. Roman usually found it difficult to keep his voice soft—it was naturally loud, and his big personality seldom did anything to restrain that. But he did his best for the tiny mouse-man’s sake.

Said mouse-man, meanwhile, stayed silent.

“I know you understand me,” Roman said. “So… I wanted to talk to you. I get that you might not want to talk to me, and you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to… but I hope you will.”

He waited a moment, hopeful in spite of himself, for a response.

“Okay…” Roman finally sighed. “Anyway. I’m not sure how much you know, or remember, so I’m just going to fill you in again. Okay?” Roman wouldn’t be surprised if the little guy hadn’t absorbed anything they’d told him. Besides, even if he had, maybe it would reassure him when their story remained consistent.

The little mouse-man watched him.

“My name is Roman,” he began, “and my roommate is Logan. You’re in our apartment.” He took a deep breath. “I promise you, we will not harm you. You have every right to be scared, but I promise you, you are safe. We brought you here two days ago after we found you on the beach, half-drowned and injured. We’re not sure what exactly happened to you, but we fixed you up as best we could—,” here he winced slightly—“I know it isn’t great, but we tried.  I’m very sorry we put you in a cage, though. Logan thought it would be safer since you were so sick, and we couldn’t stay here all the time to make sure nothing happened. I know that’s no excuse. So….” Roman sat forward in the chair, reaching slowly for the latch on the cage door. He opened it, careful not to let it squeak.

“So, I’m going to let you come out now if you want, at least for a while. And we’ll let you leave soon, I promise. But… I just wanted to ask… Do you have anywhere to go once you do?”

…

Patton was trying to figure out if this was a trick or not. The cage door was wide open. Roman had sat back in his chair again.

There still wasn’t a safer way down for him than the one he’d taken with Virgil, but… he could get down, theoretically, if Roman really was willing to just let him out.

“…Do you have anywhere to go once you do?” the human was asking.

Patton debated for a second, but eventually he nodded. Virgil would let him stay, wouldn’t he? He’d been willing to help him run away, at least.

“Will you be safe there?”

Patton didn’t know Virgil well—not really at all, honestly; and he still didn’t know how he’d gotten hurt—but he hoped so. Whatever Virgil’s living situation was, Patton was sure it would be better than what he’d had with Marissa. So again, he nodded.

“Can I help you get there?”

Patton hesitated. He couldn’t reveal Virgil’s existence to Roman. And he had no idea how to get to his old home, or to his family. So he shook his head.

Roman sighed, running a hand through his hair. He took a moment to think. Finally, he looked up. “May I please have your name?” he asked. “I’m sure you have one.”

The human actually wanted to know his name? Patton was taken aback at the request. Marissa had never asked for his name—she hadn’t wanted it. He wasn’t a person to her, not anything that deserved a name outside of her games.

Patton knew he shouldn’t say anything. But he found that, for some reason, he wanted to answer.

…

“My name’s Patton,” a quiet, slightly hoarse voice said.

Roman did his best to stay calm, not looking too excited—he hadn’t expected to actually get an answer! He smiled. “Patton. That’s a nice name. I like it.”

The mouse-man’s eyes kept going to the cage door.

“You really can come out if you want. I’d prefer if you stayed on the table for now, though,” Roman said. “I know you got down to the floor before—heaven knows how—but your hands are hurt and I don’t want things to get worse.”

…

So, as Patton had thought, he wasn’t free to go wherever he pleased. But the human seemed sincere in his offer for Patton to get out of the cage. He slowly got up and moved towards the open door, keeping a wary eye on the human. He stepped up to where the door hung down on its hinge, climbed out onto it, and maneuvered himself carefully onto the table’s surface. He was out.

Roman smiled, and Patton could find no malice in it.


	10. Bonding

“I have something for you,” Roman said. “A present. To help show you that… we don’t mean any harm.”

The mouse-man sat down on the table cautiously. Roman could sense his reluctance to do so, probably feeling more vulnerable that way; but given how unwell he still was, he probably hadn’t had a lot of choice in the matter.

Poor little guy.

Roman pulled something out of his pocket and set it on the table a little less than a foot away from the mouse-man. Roman didn’t want to make him get up, but he also didn’t want to scare him by coming any closer. What he set there was a tiny box—one of those little decorative things whose purpose Roman was never sure of, but which he’d accumulated a few of over the years as impulse buys. He’d chosen the lightest one he owned for this. He unhooked the little clasp that held it shut and opened the small lid. He drew back, leaving what was inside exposed.

…

Roman sat back in his chair, apparently trying to make himself look as small and nonthreatening as possible, once he’d left the gift on the table.

Patton craned his neck to try to figure out what it was, but he couldn’t see in the box from here.

The human was looking down at some kind of metal-and-glass rectangle in his hand, and not at the little, so Patton started edging his way towards the box. He reached it fairly quickly, and he stole a look inside.

It was filled with small scraps of paper and a dozen or so broken-off, colorful lumps that were each roughly the size of his fist. He picked one up curiously.

“They’re for drawing.”

Patton jumped and nearly dropped what he was holding. The human had looked up from his rectangle thing to watch him.  Patton realized that the human had probably only been pretending to be distracted.

“They’re called colored pencils. Or, at least, those are the tips of my colored pencils. I broke them off for you.”

Patton looked down at the colored pencil in his hand. He hadn’t drawn anything since he was a kid, and as far as he could recall, he’d never used colors before.

“Do you want to try?”

Patton curled his tail around himself nervously, but after a long moment, he gave a barely perceptible nod.

The human smiled. “Okay. Just pick up one of those papers, and then you can use the different colors to draw whatever you want. A person, a flower, the sun… whatever. You can even just scribble if that’s what you want to do.”

Patton hesitated before grabbing one of the papers and putting it on the table in front of him. He picked up a different colored pencil and brought it across the page, leaving a bright green streak behind. He could sense Roman’s attention on him, probably wanting to comment on the drawing, but he refrained from doing so.

Patton picked up another color—blue—and scribbled at one end of the green line. It was supposed to be a flower, but it didn’t look like much of anything.

Roman, however, looked delighted. Whether this was at the drawing or just at the fact that Patton was using his present, he couldn’t say.

…

Roman watched as the mouse-man—Patton—picked up another scrap of paper and started slowly scribbling on it, just random swirls and zigzags with the different colors. Things seemed to be going well so far, so maybe this was a good time to try to talk to him.

Roman cleared his throat quietly, causing Patton to pause in his drawing, “So, uh… Logan and I wanted to apologize for frightening you. He wanted to see you himself before he had to leave this morning, but he said you were still asleep.” The little mouse-man shifted uncomfortably at that, so Roman figured it would be best to just keep going. “I wanted to tell you that I understand how you feel, or as well as it’s possible for me to understand. Or… I’m trying to, at least,” he faltered. “I know it must’ve been pretty scary to wake up in a cage in a strange place, and then again when Logan picked you up earlier without asking. I am sorry, truly.”

The little mouse-man was clearly listening, but he didn’t look up yet.

“We really were just trying to help you. I know it might not seem that way, but it’s true. And I know there are things we definitely could have and should have done better. I’m really sorry, Patton.”

Roman had looked down at his lap as he said those last few sentences. He looked up now to see that the tiny mouse-man was shaking. Were there tears in his eyes?

“Oh, no, did I say something—?” Roman started, but the mouse-man shook his head and rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. Roman fell silent. He got the feeling that Patton wanted to say something, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to actually do it. Roman decided not to press.

“We can just color a bit, then, if you want?” he offered hesitantly. The mouse-man nodded, so Roman got up and went to get some paper and colored pencils for himself—after explaining what he was doing; he didn’t want to scare the little guy again. He hoped Patton wouldn’t bolt as soon as he left the room.

…

Patton watched as the human got up and left for a moment, again leaving Patton able to attempt an escape if he wanted to. This time, however, it was done knowingly. The little couldn’t help but consider making a break for the table leg and attempting to climb down by himself; but when he looked down at the paper scraps and colored pencil lead, and the small, ornate box they had been gifted in, he couldn’t help but reconsider. Had Roman really broken his things for him?

Perhaps this was all some sort of elaborate prank, but Patton really wanted to believe that he could trust this token of good will. Even if things turned bad, couldn’t he pretend things might be okay? Just for a little while?

Besides… these humans had apologized to him. Marissa had never expressed remorse for anything. Not sincerely, and certainly not to Patton. Logan’s apologies earlier had been the first ones he’d ever received from a human. And now, Roman’s had sounded so especially sincere, even acknowledging exactly what they did wrong… It made Patton want to cry. He was more than a little overwhelmed, but not necessarily in a bad way.

And so, Patton, swallowing his uncertainty, just brought the colored pencil he was holding slowly across the page, leaving behind a long indigo streak through what he’d already drawn. He hoped he was making the right choice, to stay.

…

Virgil’s brother was home.

“Hey, Emile. Where’d you go this time?” Virgil asked.

Emile, although only just shy of a year older than Virgil, did most of the scavenging for their little family. He insisted upon it, especially after what had happened to Virgil’s leg, and later, his tail. The two of them were in their home, located somewhere in a wall bordering two apartments, forming part of the hallway that led between the kitchen and bedrooms of each living space. Human bedrooms and kitchens were both prime locations for finding supplies, and their home’s position in the center of the building meant it was better insulated than if they were in an exterior wall.

“That apartment two floors up, just as we planned,” Emile replied, setting down his bag full of the fruits of his labor. He rubbed an eye, looking tired. “I thought that we could finally make you some new clothes. I don’t think there’s anything left of your original jacket, it’s been patched so many times.”

“I like this jacket,” Virgil justified. Besides, he didn’t need Emile looking too closely at it just now. He hadn’t yet quite managed to get the stain out of the back from where Patton had grabbed it. That had been an oversight, on his part. If Emile decided to stop Virgil from going out before he’d actually managed to save the other little, Patton might never be freed. Emile would certainly never go for it, even if Virgil did argue that helping him would safeguard their people’s existence as a whole.

Emile was already pulling fabric scraps, buttons, string, and other materials out of his bag. “Well, your jeans are the same way, if not worse,” he pointed out.

“We can worry about that tomorrow. You look dead on your feet,” Virgil insisted. “If you’re gonna insist on doing all the hard work, at least rest when it’s finished. I can sew my own clothes. I don’t need both legs for that.”

“We still need to get more food,” Emile pointed out.

“You could let me do something for once,” Virgil argued, somewhat bitterly.

“I know you want to help, Virgil, but  _you can’t run_. Besides, you know what happened last time.” Emile’s eyes went to Virgil’s tail. Emile, of course, thought that that was the most recent occasion that Virgil had left the confines of the walls. Emile didn’t need to know otherwise. Not yet.

“I’d be careful.”

“I know,” Emile sighed. “But still, no.”

Virgil sighed in frustration. He knew Emile couldn’t stop him, not really. Or, he supposed he probably could, but as it was, there wasn’t any physical barrier that kept Virgil from openly disobeying his brother. Virgil just didn’t have anyone else. He didn’t want to fight with his only family, his only friend.

He could still sneak out, of course, and often did; but that was a different matter.

Virgil’s disobedient jaunts, while invaluable to his own sanity, didn’t really help Emile. They didn’t take any of the strain off his brother or reduce the pressure on him to provide for the both of the littles: Obviously, if Virgil showed up with supplies, Emile would know what Virgil was doing. He’d do more to stop his brother from going out; and he’d probably be less willing to travel to the other apartments that contained what they needed, which would only make things harder for them. All for fear of Virgil going out and getting himself hurt.

“If you’re going back out,” Virgil eventually sighed, “at least wait until tonight. It’ll be safer if you go in the dark.”

Emile regarded him for a second, and then smiled weakly in acquiescence. “Fine.”

…

Roman returned a few minutes later holding a sketchbook and some more full-sized colored pencils, these ones with their tips intact. He couldn’t help but be surprised to see Patton exactly where he had left him. A bloom of happiness grew in his chest.

He pretended not to notice the little guy leaning away from him as he walked past, only relaxing somewhat once Roman sat down.

Roman considered suggesting that he and the tiny mouse-man draw each other, but he decided against that. Patton probably wouldn’t want Roman’s gaze on him for that long. So, instead, he just took out his pencils and began to draw. It was just a generic nature scene, a lake and some mountains, something he didn’t need to focus too much on.

After a while, Roman heard the front door open, and then footsteps approaching. Logan’s morning class must have finished. He noticed Patton tense.

“That’s just Logan,” Roman said. “He won’t hurt you.”

…

Patton silently set down the colored pencil he was using.

Roman might have been being nice, for now at least, but Patton remained apprehensive of the idea of being in a room with two humans at the same time. There was no way he’d be relaxed enough to keep drawing anything; even if he tried, his hands would probably be shaking too much to end up with anything other than formless nonsense.

…

“Hey, Logan,” Roman said as his roommate came into view, pointedly keeping his voice very quiet.

Logan made his way quietly into the room. To his surprise, the small creature he and Roman had rescued was outside of the cage, sitting before some scraps of scribbled-on paper and what he hypothesized to be the tips of Roman’s prized colored pencils. A very small, decorative box sat off to the side. Logan was sure that it, too, belonged to Roman.

The small creature, meanwhile, didn’t appear to be trying to flee, even if he did seem rather tense.

He looked at his roommate and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Roman beckoned him in. “We’ve been drawing together,” he explained in a soft voice.

“I see,” said Logan. He decided to follow Roman’s lead and sit down, realizing that it was probably an attempt to seem less threatening. Sitting down would shift the power dynamic, making them more equal. There was still the sheer size difference between the two humans and the creature, of course; but nothing could be done about that. Logan pulled over a chair and took a seat, keeping approximately the same distance away from the creature as Roman had.

“So, Logan, this is Patton,” Roman said carefully.

“Patton?” Logan repeated, noting that the creature, Patton, shifted nervously as he did so. Logan couldn’t help but feel conflicted at the new information. He was excited at the implications that the fact that Patton did indeed have a name held—someone had to have given it to him, after all, and it meant that his species, whatever it was, had a concept of individuality and names, as well as the ability to speak. However, Logan was a little disappointed that this meant that the creature had spoken without him being there to hear it.

Logan reminded himself that that wasn’t important—what was important was that this meant that Patton had felt comfortable enough to tell Roman his name.

Logan adopted a careful tone as he addressed their guest. “It is very good to meet you, Patton.”


	11. Cheese

“It is very good to meet you, Patton,” Logan said carefully. He was doing his best to not let his eagerness show: Patton’s reaction last time hadn’t exactly been positive, and Logan didn’t want to inadvertently undo the progress Roman had made.

Patton, meanwhile, was still looking down at the table; and he didn’t make a sound.

Logan had expected that, to be honest, although he was still disappointed. He glanced over at Roman. “You know, it is almost one in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You have a class at one-thirty, do you not?”

“…Yeah,” Roman admitted. Logan sighed at his tone.

“You skipped your morning classes, didn’t you?”

“Well, I thought someone should stay with him,” Roman protested, gesturing in Patton’s direction.

“I’m here, now,” Logan pointed out. “And you need to go to class.”

“Alright, fine, just—” Logan felt Roman’s hand fasten on his wrist. “Come with me for a sec.” He pulled Logan to his feet and led him from the room. Logan could feel Patton’s gaze following them.

“Roman, what—” Logan began, only to be interrupted by his roommate, who spoke urgently in a hushed tone.

“Listen. I’ll go, but you need to promise me something. I know you want to ask him a bunch of your questions, but I’m telling you: don’t. Don’t overwhelm him, okay? If he doesn’t want to talk, don’t make him. Don’t ask him about what happened to him. I don’t know any more than you do, but it was obviously really bad. And, seriously, don’t pick him up, especially without asking. Don’t raise your voice either. It freaks him out. Just let him hang out, and _be nice_. Deal?”

“If I agree, will you go to class?” Logan sighed. It wasn’t as if he was planning to scare their tiny guest, so he was a little miffed about that insinuation, but Roman really did need to attend his classes.

“Yes.”

“Then deal.”

…

Patton sat on the table, trying to listen in on the humans’ conversation, but it was too muffled for him to make out. He tapped his fingers on the wood nervously, hoping he hadn’t somehow done something to make them angry. He glanced towards the table leg he and Virgil had climbed down the day before, unable to help the persistent urge to try to escape once again.

Finally, Logan and Roman returned.

“Sorry, buddy,” Roman said to him, “but I’ve got to go. I’ll be back later this afternoon.” Patton didn’t miss the meaningful look he cast at Logan before leaving the room.

Patton and Logan were left alone.

…

“So, Patton,” Logan began. He spoke at a normal volume, but he noticed that the “mouse-man’s” body language suddenly became much more anxious. Perhaps that was why Roman spoke so quietly. He quickly lowered his voice to match that example. “How are you feeling?”

Patton didn’t meet his eyes, but finally, he shrugged.

“Are you tired?”

A small nod.

“Would you like to sleep?”

A quick shake of the head. Perhaps he was too nervous to do so around Logan.

“Well, then… are you thirsty? Hungry?”

Logan really was trying to limit his questions, like he had promised Roman, but he needed to check in on their guest. Surely, that was acceptable. Patton, meanwhile, seemed confused by the questions, like he was looking for some sort of angle Logan might be playing; but after a long pause, he nodded. Logan stood slowly and looked in Patton’s cage. One of the bottlecaps inside was still half full, and the food dish still contained almost all of the food he had originally put in it.

“I can place your provisions nearer to you, should you find that acceptable,” Logan offered.

A minute went by with no response from Patton, so Logan just reached past him and into the cage, trying the ignore the way Patton covered his head with his arms. He retrieved the first of the dishes and set it near Patton, then grabbed the other and did the same. Logan retracted his hand.

Patton very slowly lowered his arms. Keeping a watchful eye on Logan, he scooted closer to the dishes, picked up a sunflower seed shell from the food dish, and used it to scoop up some water. He drank from it, eyes still locked on Logan. Logan might’ve felt unsettled if Patton hadn’t been so incredibly small.

“I know I asked you this already,” Logan said. “But as you did not truly answer… is the food we provided acceptable to your tastes? Any insight into what you eat, or any preferences you may have, would be quite helpful.”

…

Patton lowered his makeshift cup from his lips and set it down in his lap.

Logan seemed sincere enough, and he hadn’t yet hurt Patton. And Roman had been nice when he was there.

“It’s…” Patton said hesitantly. “It’s okay. I’m n-not picky.”

A look of joy overcame Logan’s countenance at Patton’s decision to speak, although it was dampened somewhat by the sadness at what he actually said. Both feelings were quickly suppressed.

“I appreciate your intent,” Logan replied. “But I am sure you have some sort of preference.”

“I… I can eat anything you—you can eat,” Patton admitted. He looked down at the contents of the food dish, which was largely seeds (edible seeds, but seeds) and vegetables.

“In that case, why don’t I make us both some lunch?” Logan suggested. He slowly got to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Patton watched him go.  Soon after, he could hear the sounds of Logan preparing something in the kitchen. Why were he and Roman trusting him by himself? He hadn’t even been stuck back in the cage. Sure, he was still sick (he could scarcely remember a time when he _wasn’t_ either sick or injured at this point), but he could still have tried to escape. In fact, he already had. Twice. So why trust him?

Patton wasn’t sure how long it would take Logan to get back. He busied himself by picking up all the paper scraps and colored pencil nubs and putting them together in their box. Logan still hadn’t returned when this was done, which wasn’t all that surprising considering how little time organizing the box had taken. Patton covered a yawn, looking around the room. He wondered if Virgil was there, somewhere, watching him. If he was, he was well hidden.

Logan finally returned holding a plate and a saucer, which he set beside Patton. He sat down in the same chair as before with his own plate.

Patton looked at the saucer, a comically large dish for someone of his size. It held a portion of small, cut-up pieces of fruit, a bit of bread, and some kind of yellow food. Patton looked up and saw that the human had a plate for himself, with similar (although larger) servings for himself.

Patton started to eagerly eat, at first just taking the fruit; but he soon paused, looking at the yellow thing. He poked it. It was soft.

“Is something wrong?” Logan asked quietly, pausing in his own meal.

Patton didn’t particularly want to speak to the human, but he was rather confused about what the yellow thing was. Was it even food? Patton would look rather silly if he tried to eat it and it wasn’t. He picked it up and inspected it. The human, of course, took notice.

“Can you not eat cheese?” Logan asked inquisitively.

Cheese. This was cheese? Patton had never had any that wasn’t hard and dry. This was too soft to be cheese, wasn’t it?

Logan started to ask something else, but he broke off when Patton tentatively bit into the food.

Oh, _wow_. This was good. Was cheese supposed to always be this good? He took another bite, and another.

…

Patton’s reaction to the cheese left Logan rather confused. He was starting to wonder if Patton had ever even had it before.

That just added to the already plentiful collection of questions Logan had about his and Roman’s find.

He went back to his own meal, determined to keep them to himself for now. He had promised Roman, after all; and besides, he really didn’t want to overwhelm Patton. For now, Logan was just satisfied that he was starting to feel better.


	12. Patton Illustration (Chapter 2)




	13. An Unfortunate Compromise

Once they were done eating, Logan took his and Patton’s dishes into the kitchen. He rinsed them off, and then stood at the sink for a moment, thinking. What more could he do to gain Patton’s trust? Patton would recover much more quickly in an atmosphere where he felt comfortable.

A major issue, he knew, was the cage. Logan really had only intended to keep Patton trapped in there until he was well enough to be trusted alone without getting hurt. That time seemed to have arrived, but they did still have to house him somewhere. Logan and Roman could potentially purchase a doll house or something of the like; but that possibility had some drawbacks. Firstly, Patton might assume that a purchase like that implied an intention to keep the “mouse-man” trapped in their apartment for an extended time against his wishes. Besides, even if Patton did desire to stay with the two roommates, they would need some time to choose a suitable dwelling for him. Despite the progress that he and Roman had made, Logan still believed that Patton would jump at the chance to never see them again.

Even so, Patton did need to stay somewhere while he recovered, and a cage was probably not the best option.

Perhaps a compromise could be made in the meantime.

…

Patton looked up when Logan came back into the room. There was something in his hand, some sort of tool. Patton didn’t like the look of it.

Logan must’ve noticed him shying away, but he didn’t say anything about that.

“I imagine that you dislike the idea of living in a cage,” Logan began a little awkwardly. Was he nervous? Why was he nervous? It only served to increase Patton’s own anxiety as Logan kept talking. “But you do need to live somewhere while you are staying with us, at least until better accommodations can be made.” He approached, and then gestured at the cage. “May I?”

Patton shifted, blinked uncomprehendingly.

“I wish to remove the door from the cage,” Logan explained. “That way it may still serve as temporary housing for you, but you will not feel trapped. I would offer to simply leave it open, but this way, you will be certain that we cannot quietly close it on you.”

Patton didn’t understand. Why would the human care if he felt trapped? Sure, the reassurances and the presents the humans had given him helped some, but it was clear that they weren’t planning to let him go yet—if at all. Patton still couldn’t let his guard down too far. Was the human trying to trick him somehow? Was he going to only pretend to use that tool on the cage, and then hurt Patton with it?

It seemed to Patton like the full weight of his situation was finally hitting him, perhaps ironically because of the clarity that finally getting some water and real food provided. Suddenly, he knew: _this could not be real_. The humans were trying to lull him into a false sense of security. He was in danger.

…

Patton had started trembling. Logan blinked. Had he done something wrong again?

“Are you alright?” he asked. He set down the screwdriver, but the “mouse-man” didn’t seem to notice.

“We don’t have to do this now,” Logan said, confused. “I just thought… I was just trying to help.”

Patton’s breath was coming in irregular gasps, and the tremors that went through his body had increased to full on shaking.

“Patton?”

He watched as Patton jolted upon being addressed, his vision focusing on Logan briefly, but he still couldn’t seem to get his breath under control. Logan went to move closer, but Patton had already staggered to his feet. Logan was honestly surprised that his legs held h—oh, wait. As he watched, shocked by the development, Patton jerked to the side, clearly trying to keep his balance, only to fall back hard on his butt with a squeak of fear.

“Patton, please, calm yourself,” Logan said urgently. “You need to breathe. I am not going to hurt you, I swear.”

…

 _Lies_.

Patton could barely understand what Logan was saying, but he knew he couldn’t trust it anyway. He was still trying to get away from him, from that tool he had brought in.

He sucked in a breath, a desperate gasp. His extremities had started to go numb. Had the human done something to him? Had he put something in his food? Was he dying? Oh, why had he started to trust them?!

“Patton, _Patton!_ ” the human was saying, sounding alarmed.

…

“Patton, please try to breathe,” Logan insisted. He was starting to worry that Patton might faint if he didn’t compose himself soon.

He moved backwards, kneeling on the floor and softening his voice further. “Try to breathe with me, please. In for four. In, two, three, four.” He continued counting, despite the fact that Patton didn’t seem to be paying attention. “Hold, two, three, four, five, six, seven…. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.” He continued the pattern, and eventually, Patton seemed to latch onto it. It took a while, but finally, he got control of his breathing once more. Logan kept counting, his voice gentle.

Finally, Patton had calmed himself down. Logan sighed in relief, putting the screwdriver in his back pocket so that Patton couldn’t see it anymore. “As I said,” he murmured. “We don’t have to do anything now. I apologize for any misunderstandings I may have caused. Why don’t you just go back to coloring?” he suggested softly. “Or perhaps you could lie down for a while. You must be tired after that. Whatever you want to do is fine. I’ll even leave, if that is what you desire.”

Patton dithered for a long moment before he nodded timidly.

Logan paused, uncertain what Patton was agreeing to. Did he want to color? To lie down? Or did he want Logan to leave?

Patton hadn’t moved to resume his coloring or to lie down, so Logan figured it was in fact the third option that he wanted.

“Okay,” he murmured. “I will be nearby. Just call out if you need anything. Is that acceptable?”

Patton didn’t respond. He still seemed very uneasy. Did he expect Logan to be angry about this? He was a little disappointed, sure, that he didn’t get to stay with his guest, and still a little worried that Patton would try to run and injure himself in the process; but he wasn’t angry. Patton deserved some alone time if he desired it.

“Okay,” Logan repeated to himself. He got up, and he exited the room. Patton watched his retreating form.

…

Logan actually left him alone when he asked him to. Patton almost couldn’t believe it. Nothing bad had happened. Logan had listened to him, and he hadn’t even been angry about it. He hadn’t hurt him with that tool.

It was a while before Patton was able to get up again. To say he was tired was an understatement: he was exhausted. His head was still spinning, and his limbs felt like rubber. He tried to relax for a moment, breathing deeply, until eventually, finally, he was able to stand.

He looked over at the box of drawing materials, at the dishes of food and water. He took a drink out of the last, and then gingerly walked towards the cage. He wavered for a moment before he climbed inside. Glancing back numerous times to make sure no one had snuck up on him to try to close the door, Patton mostly only stayed long enough to grab the blanket he’d been given before he climbed back out. He would’ve brought the washcloth, too, for something to curl up in; but it was too heavy for him to attempt to drag out of the cage at the moment. He’d already spent too much time in there for his own peace of mind, anyway.

Patton lay down on the table, between the stack of books and the cage, for some sense of seclusion. He wrapped himself up in the blanket, curled up on his side. He had to admit that the table wasn’t as comfortable as the corner of the cage had been, but he didn’t feel as trapped out here. And besides, the blanket alone was more comfort than Patton had ever had in Marissa’s cardboard boxes.

Twenty-odd minutes went by with no sign of the human returning, and Patton finally allowed his heavy eyelids to close. Maybe he could take a little nap. After all, he’d been asleep around these humans before, and nothing _too_ bad had happened yet.

He’d be okay.

Of course, he didn’t actually know that for sure, but Patton was honestly too physically and mentally drained to care.


	14. Strategy

Roman got home from his classes later that afternoon. Logan was sitting in the kitchen, working on homework.

“How’s Patton?” he asked after the obligatory greetings.

“He asked to be alone,” Logan said after a beat. “It’s only been an hour or so since then. I figured I could give him a bit longer.”

“You’re sure he’s not trying to run away?”

“Well, I hope he isn’t. I am giving him the benefit of the doubt.”

Roman nodded. He glanced toward the doorway that led to where Patton was. “I’m going to go check on him, to make sure he’s still there and, y’know, alive.”

Logan just looked away without reply. Roman shrugged to himself and walked towards the other room. Just outside the doorway, he stopped, and softly called out, “Hey, Patton? You okay? May I come in?”

There was no response, or at least none that he could hear. Roman frowned, a little concerned. He stepped through the doorway and approached the cage. The door was still open, but Patton wasn’t where Roman had last seen him. Nor was he inside.

“Patton?” he called softly. He looked around on the table, his concern growing, until he finally spotted the little guy. He was half hidden between the cage and some books, curled up under his blanket, fast asleep.

Roman sighed in relief. Patton was alright, and he hadn’t run away. He watched for a few seconds, and the mouse-man shifted without waking. _He needs a pillow_ , Roman thought. Maybe he could work on that before starting his homework.

Back in the other room, he approached Logan. “He’s fine,” he informed him quietly. “Just sleeping.”

Logan tapped his pen against the side of his textbook for a moment. “Roman… I….”

The man in question paused, frowning. “What?”

“I… do believe that I may have… inadvertently contributed to—or that is, I….”

“Hey, Poindexter, calm down and spit it out. What is it?”

“A small situation occurred while you were gone.”

Roman glanced back towards the other room in concern before addressing his roommate warily. “Which means?”

“A panic attack, I believe, which may have been spurred on by… or—or at least contributed to by my actions.”

“You gave him a panic attack? Dammit, Lo, I told you to be gentle! What did you do, interrogate him? Please tell me you didn’t grab him.”

“No, of course not! I—I merely offered to remove the door to the cage, so that he would no longer feel trapped. However, he grew quite anxious as soon as I entered the room with the screwdriver, and he did not seem to listen when I attempted to properly explain my intentions.”

Roman groaned loudly and covered his face with his hands. “Oh, my gosh, Logan….” After a few seconds of frustrated silence, he dropped his hands. “Just think for a second. Try to imagine you’re him. How would you feel if someone came at you with a sharp metal tool as long as your entire body? He probably doesn’t even know what a screwdriver _is_.”

There was a long pause. Then, in a sheepish tone, Logan said, “I suppose you do make a valid point.”

…

Virgil was watching the room from his perch on a shelf, where he’d spent the last ten minutes or so. He could see a vague shape below that he knew to be Patton, lying on the same table where, as far as Virgil was aware, he’d spent practically the whole time since the humans had brought him here.

He tensed when one of the humans entered the room and approached Patton, but they left after only a few seconds without bothering the captive little. Virgil waited a moment, then forced his muscles to relax again.

He wanted to go down there, to try again to rescue him; but a few things stopped him.

The first was his brother, who was currently asleep at home. He would probably not approve of Virgil’s choice of vantage points if he were here. Emile thought that Virgil was rather helpless. He claimed otherwise, of course, but Virgil knew. If it were up to his brother, Virgil would never leave home. Of course, he knew it was out of nothing but concern and love, but Virgil needed to get out sometimes. While he hated taking risks, he also didn’t want to live his life closed up in a wall. He had to make sure that Emile didn’t find out about his exploits, at least until after Patton had been rescued. Virgil had already accepted that there was no way to avoid the end of any secrecy about his outings once he was free. He knew Emile wouldn’t buy that Patton had just wandered into their house, and for all Virgil knew, Patton was a horrible liar anyway.

For now, though, he needed to continue keeping his comings and goings a secret. Sometimes, that was easier said than done.

Virgil rubbed the frayed end of his hoodie sleeve between his fingers. It had been quite the challenge getting the blood out of the jacket before Emile could see it—it was still damp, in fact, although that wouldn’t keep Virgil from wearing it.

The second reason he wasn’t down there rescuing Patton right now was that he wanted to wait until the humans weren’t around to stop him, or worse, to see him. The odds of Virgil escaping were not exactly in his favor should he be spotted. His gimp foot slowed him down, and on top of that, Patton didn’t seem to be in the best of health either. If Virgil was caught, he knew that there was no way they would be able to get away. Virgil needed to find a low-risk opportunity for a rescue attempt.

As much as he wanted to get Patton out of there as soon as possible, he was more willing to wait now than he had been before. At first, he’d felt that he had to rush—for all he’d known, Patton’s death, severe harm, or interrogation were imminent. Virgil had wanted to act before it was too late, before Patton was hurt or any information about the larger population of littles was revealed. But that didn’t appear to be the humans’ endgame—he still hadn’t figured out what _was_ their endgame, but Virgil seemed to have some time. Whatever they were planning, it seemed like they wanted their captive to recover first. Virgil could wait until Patton had improved more, and until he could take advantage of an occasion when the humans were gone.

Of course, if it looked like Virgil was running out of time, he would act sooner.  But for now, he could wait.


	15. Checkup

Roman sat at his desk in his room, tongue held between his teeth as he very, very carefully threaded a needle through the small scrap of fabric he was working with. He was nearly done sewing a pillow for Patton. A single cotton ball sat on the desk in front of him, along with the spool the string came from and the rest of the old t-shirt he’d cut the fabric scrap from. It was the same old shirt whose sleeve had become Patton’s blanket.

Roman finished the side he was stitching up, then turned the whole thing inside out so that the majority of the stitching would be inside. He then used the dull end of the needle to stuff bits of cotton inside the small hole he had left.

Once the tiny pillow was properly stuffed—not too flimsy, but also with enough give that it would hopefully be comfortable, Roman added the last few stitches, cut off the extra thread, and sat back to inspect his handiwork.

 _This should work,_  he thought.

…

Logan was reading a book when Roman came into the kitchen, sitting by the window. Usually, he liked to sit in the other room, but since the little mouse-man was currently occupying it, he’d apparently made do in here. Roman wasn’t sure why he didn’t just read in his bedroom. Maybe he just wanted to be nearer to Patton.

“Hey,” Roman said.

“Hey.”

“How’s it going?”

Logan closed his book, only then looking up at his roommate. “Decently. Why do you ask?”

“Just… I don’t know.” Roman shrugged. “Sorry if I snapped at you earlier. I know you didn’t mean to scare him.”

“Thank you for the acknowledgement,” Logan said.

“Have you heard anything from Patton?”

“Not recently. Although, I did wish to let you know that Patton claims to be able to eat any type of human food.”

Roman nodded. That was good to know. He walked towards the entrance to the other room. He wondered if the little mouse-man was still asleep.

“Hey, Patton?” he called out, knocking softly on the door frame. He didn’t immediately get a response, so he waited a moment and tried again.

…

Patton blinked awake. He thought he’d just heard something, but he wasn’t completely sure. He sat up slowly, still a tad groggy, and looked around. Part of him had expected to wake up back in the cage, so he was pleasantly surprised to find that that wasn’t the case.

“Patton? Are you awake?” A voice called. Patton couldn’t help but jolt, even if the voice was quiet. He looked around quickly for its source, but soon realized that the human wasn’t actually in the room.

“Y-y-yes,” he stammered, finally.

“Oh, good. May I come in?”

Patton pulled his blanket around himself, looking down. He didn’t really want the human to come in. But wouldn’t he be angry if he refused?

“Patton?”

He studied the bandages on his hands nervously.

“You know you can say no, right?” The humans voice was even softer than before.

Patton stilled.

“I can come back later. I just had something to give you, and we should probably change your bandages. But that can wait, if you want. So… can I come in now?”

“No…” Patton said breathily. “No,” he repeated, a bit more force behind the word.

“No?” the human repeated. “Oh—okay.”

Patton held his breath.

“I—I do have to come back at some point though. Is like half an hour okay?”

Patton was stunned. He had not actually expected Roman to listen to him. He was silent for a moment before suddenly remembering that he could talk. “…Yes.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.” The human—Roman, he thought it was—softly rapped three times on the door frame, like he wasn’t completely aware he was doing it, and then walked away.

Patton couldn’t believe that that had worked.

…

Virgil was still watching from his perch. He’d pulled back a bit, hiding himself behind some sort of knick-knack on the shelf when the human came to the doorway, but it seemed that he hadn’t actually come in.

The  _human_  had listened to a  _little_?

Even for a trick, that struck Virgil as weird. Nevertheless, he was glad that the human had listened. As long as Patton didn’t start falling for whatever they were up to.

Virgil slowly moved forwards again, to see past his hiding place. Patton was sitting up now, he could see. He wanted to go and talk to him, assure him that he wasn’t going to leave him with the humans forever, but he needed to get back home before Emile awoke. Besides, even if the human told the truth about not coming back for half an hour, that wasn’t necessarily enough time for him to get all the way to the table Patton was on, have a conversation, and be sure to be out of sight before the human returned.

Reluctantly, with one last look at his fellow little, Virgil grabbed his crutches and got to his feet. He retreated to a loose seam in the wallpaper, carefully peeled it back to reveal the small hole behind it, and he was gone.

…

Time passed, very slowly from Roman’s perspective. Finally, the half hour he had promised Patton was up, and he walked back to the entrance to the other room. Logan regarded him skeptically as he did so, probably assuming Patton would never agree to him coming in, but Roman ignored that.

He knocked softly. “Hey, Pat-ster. May I come in?”

He waited a moment, and finally heard a very small “Okay”. He smiled, relieved, and entered the room. He spotted the mouse-man sitting outside the cage with his back against one of its walls. His blanket was over his lap, and he had some of the paper scraps and colored pencil nubs scattered around him. Roman was struck with a strong, but not immediately identifiable emotion at the sight.

He smiled at Patton, hoping to put him at ease. “Hi, there. I brought you something.” He slowly reached out and set the little pillow near Patton, along with another scrap of fabric he’d cut from the shirt to serve as a second blanket. He figured it couldn’t hurt, in case the little guy got cold again and didn’t want to say anything. The mouse-man cautiously leaned forward and grabbed the new blanket; but for a few seconds, he simply stared at the pillow.

“Is something wrong?”

Patton looked up and then back away, so quick Roman nearly missed it.

“Do… you not know what a pillow is?”

Patton sort of squirmed, quailing under the attention, like he was scared Roman would be angry.

“Oh,” was all he said, surprised. He stared for a second, then snapped out of it. “Well—well, you put it under your head, so it’s more comfortable when you lie down.”

Patton reached out and prodded the pillow. Apparently, it passed whatever this test was, for he then pulled it over to his side.

“Just… like… you know.” Roman awkwardly mimed putting a pillow under his head. “Like that.”

Patton looked from the pillow back up to Roman. Roman was sure he understood (perhaps he  _had_ already known what a pillow was, and just hadn’t had one for himself before), but even despite the gifts, the tiny guy was clearly nervous. Roman sighed and settled himself in one of the chairs across from the table.

…

Virgil made it back home to his and his brother’s home fairly quickly. It was always a little tricky, since the route was made for a little with the full use of both legs, but he made pretty good time. When he got back, he went to the bedroom, where thankfully, Emile was still asleep, curled up in the nest-like bed the two of them shared. Virgil didn’t usually leave while his brother was home. He had just wanted to keep an eye on Patton.

In fact, he was thinking of going out again tonight, when Emile planned to go and get them more food, and when the humans keeping the other little were likely to be asleep. He hoped to talk to Patton both to explain his plan and to double-check on how he was doing. Virgil hoped that he would understand his desire to not risk either of their safety. Patton had barely made it down the table leg the first time they’d tried to escape together, and Virgil was unsure if that had merely been luck. It wouldn’t be much of a rescue if Patton got hurt, or worse.

After he checked on his brother, Virgil went back to where the supplies Emile had gotten were. He decided to spend some time mending clothes, possibly crafting some new ones if there was enough fabric left.

…

Roman had only just sat down when he was struck by a thought.

“Oh, yeah!” He broke off when Patton jumped. “Shoot, sorry. Do you mind if Logan comes in here? We should change the bandages on your hands and on your back.”

Patton suddenly looked very confused. He reached over his shoulder and felt around until he found the bandage that he apparently had not known was on his back. He looked alarmed at the realization, so Roman put his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Hey, hey, you’re fine. We were just trying to help you. We didn’t want any of your injuries to get infected. The one on your back was pretty shallow, anyway.”

…

Patton very much did not like this. No, not at all. It was bad enough knowing that the humans had moved him, had touched his hands before he’d woken up, but to know that they’d pushed up his shirt and touched his back, probably inspected the rest of him for injuries, too? Patton did not like the idea of being handled like that by someone so much larger than him. They could have so easily crushed him, and he would have been helpless to even try to stop them. He wouldn’t have even known it was happening.

Tears were starting to spring up in his eyes. They clouded his vision, but even so, it was clear that the human was beginning to panic, rambling fragmented attempts at an explanation.

“Wait—Pat—it’s just a bandage, it’s okay, it was an older injury—We just wanted to make sure it healed okay, please don’t—don’t cry!”

Patton scooted back a bit, and Roman immediately fell silent. The little curled in on himself, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, his tail hugging his ankles. He tried to hold back his tears without much luck.

There was a long silence after that, in which Roman averted his eyes, hands to his mouth, and Patton did his best to calm down. He ran his fingers over his arms, his shoulders, his knees, his calves, the length of his tail, as if to reassure himself that it was all still there and undamaged by the humans, that there were no more bandages hiding. Roman still wasn’t looking, so Patton sucked in a breath and pulled off his shirt—a dulled pink whose material (and that of his pants) came from the dress of one of Marissa’s dolls. Patton inspected his torso, the bruises and the prominent ribs. He felt along his back, along the edges of the bandage there.

There were no other surprises, other than a few sand grains that had been stuck in a seam in his sleeve. Patton calmed down, taking deep breaths in an effort to stay that way. He couldn’t keep falling to pieces every time the humans talked to him. Not only was it rather pathetic, but what if the humans got annoyed?

“Are… are you okay?” Roman asked after a moment. His gaze flickered up towards Patton, who gave a tiny nod even though he wasn’t quite sure if that was true. Nevertheless, Roman looked relieved.

“May we look at those bandages, now?”

…

Patton slowly unwrapped the gauze from his hand. It wasn’t until he got to the last couple of layers that it hurt—they were a little stuck to the cut, but thankfully, he managed to get the bandages off without reopening it. He hesitantly held out his hand.

He and Roman had come to an agreement: Patton would let them look at his injuries and provide him with the means to redo the bandaging, but they would not touch him.

Logan had been hovering, clearly wanting to help remove the bandages, but Roman kept glaring daggers at him, and he resisted. Now, though, Logan leaned forward and looked at Patton’s hand. The little leaned away, but he did his best to swallow the fear rising in his throat and kept his arm outstretched.

The human murmured something about “adequate progress” and set some scraps of white fabric on the table. Patton took these and rewrapped his hand, which was rather difficult considering he was doing it one-handed, and the hand he was using was also injured. Logan actually left the room while that was happening, apparently not otherwise able to resist the temptation to do it himself.

Eventually, Patton got the bandages to stay tight enough (though not too tight) and fastened them in place with a piece of tape from Roman. Then he unwrapped the other hand—thankfully, the bandages came free more easily—for the humans to check on.

“Get back in here, Microsoft Nerd,” Roman called. Logan appeared a second later, looking a bit irked at the nickname.

When they got to Patton’s back, he slowly peeled off the bandage, but looking up at the two humans looming over him, Patton couldn’t bring himself to turn away from them and let them look.

Roman seemed to figure out the problem first.

“Um….” he cast an uncertain look at his friend. “Maybe you can just… describe how it feels? Does it hurt?”

Patton rolled his shoulder, considered for a second or two, and then shook his head.

Logan took a moment to peer at the discarded bandage. “It doesn’t appear to have bled recently. If you are truly opposed to replacing it, I believe you can go without. Unless something changes, at least.”

Patton was undeniably relieved to hear that. He grabbed one of his blankets and wrapped it around himself like a protective cloak without putting his shirt back on.

“Do you want dinner soon?” Roman asked.

Patton blinked. What? He looked up, bewildered, which apparently only served to confuse the humans too.

“Is there an issue?” Logan asked slowly.

Patton tightened the blanket around his shoulders. He summoned the courage to speak. “I—I just… I’ve already eaten today….”

“Patton, you are allowed more than one meal per day. In fact, in order to maintain an ideal caloric intake, the optimum schedule is actually six to eight small meals and snacks per day, or at the very least the common three full meals per day—overindulgence is, of course, not our concern for you, as you are still suffering the effects of what is likely malnutrition—.”

“Hey, Logan?” Roman interrupted, his voice louder than the one that he usually used around Patton. “You’re overwhelming him.”

It was true. Patton was having some trouble following what had quickly turned into a lecture about eating habits, since he was still trying to absorb the fact that the humans were planning to give him multiple meals per day—and that was in addition to the little bowl of seeds and vegetables that had already been in the cage when he woke up the day before.

Logan trailed off, looking down at Patton, who really would have preferred to not have this much attention on him.

“I’ll just go… start dinner, then,” Roman suggested, bouncing slightly as he got to his feet. He left the room with a last glance at Logan.

Patton and Logan were left alone for a bit, Patton halfheartedly pawing through the scraps of paper he’d spent the past half hour drawing on. Logan bit his lip.

“Patton, I… I wanted to apologize again.”

“Please don’t,” Patton murmured.

Logan looked taken aback. “Don’t?”

Patton, while still a little horrified at himself for actually saying that out loud, shook his head.

“Why not?”

Patton didn’t know how to answer that.  It wasn’t that he felt an apology wasn’t warranted: these humans had basically kidnapped him, had locked him in a cage, had cleaned him up and dressed his wounds when he wasn’t able to stop them, had given him food and water and gifts, had acted almost as if they actually saw him as a person—yet some of those things, he knew, didn’t sound so bad. When it came to those aspects of this experience, Patton honestly didn’t know why they rubbed him the wrong way. It was just… uncomfortable. Some of what the humans had done was clearly bad, like trapping him in a cage and catching him in the first place, but others were almost designed to try to get him to trust the humans. And Patton really didn’t know what to do with that.

All he really wanted to do was sleep for about a year, and to try to forget about everything that had happened.

Logan seemed to sense that Patton wasn’t going to answer him, so the two of them just waited for Roman to return.


	16. First Visit

Roman had made something called ‘tacos’ for dinner. He set a saucer before Patton with a flourish, which held a smaller version of one of these weird foods: a very flat piece of bread topped with some kind of meat, cheese just as soft as what Logan had brought him earlier, and lettuce. There was also a bit of some kind of red sauce off to the side. Roman handed Logan his plate and then showed Patton how to eat the taco, by rolling up the bread—the ‘tortilla’—and eating it that way.

“That’s called ‘salsa’,” Roman said, seeing Patton eyeing the sauce. “It’s spicy, and I wasn’t sure if you’d like it, so I left it off to the side.”

Patton hesitantly reached towards it, dipping the tip of his finger in the sauce.

“Just try a little,” Roman warned.

Patton licked the tip of his finger, and he immediately jerked away, making a face. What the heck was that?

Roman looked like he was trying not to laugh. “No salsa, then,” he commented, sounding amused.

Logan shook his head with a sigh. “I told you he wouldn’t like it. He likely doesn’t have much experience with spicy food. A taste for foods containing capsaicin is built up over time—no one is born desensitized to it.”

“I just thought he could try it!” Roman defended himself. “You never know.”

“No, but I had a strong hypothesis and supportive evidence. You had neither.”

Roman gasped, putting a hand on his chest and looking affronted. “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t make assumptions about him! Or did you forget that?”

Patton was starting to feel on edge, until he noticed that both humans were grinning as they argued. It wasn’t a serious fight. He released his breath slowly, picking up a piece of cheese to get the taste of the salsa out of his mouth.

…

Once Virgil had finished mending his and his brother’s clothes, he made his way back to their bedroom. Emile, still curled up in bed, mumbled something in his sleep. He looked pretty cozy, nestled there in the blankets.

Since Virgil was planning to go out tonight, he should probably get some rest beforehand. Right?

That was all the self-motivation he needed. He set his crutches to the side, removed his shoes, and crawled into the nest, curling up at his brother’s side. Emile tended to move around in his sleep, so as usual, Virgil made sure his left foot was away from his brother so that the odds of him accidentally bumping into it were small.

Curled up in that warm bundle of blankets with his brother sleeping peacefully at his side, Virgil closed his eyes.

…

Patton decided that he liked tacos. He wasn’t exactly a fan of the salsa, but the tacos themselves were pretty tasty. They had cheese, anyway, which he had decided he very much liked.

“Have you finished eating?” Logan asked after a while.

Patton looked down at his plate. There was quite a bit of food left on it, in addition to the all-but-untouched salsa; but Patton didn’t think he could eat any more. He nodded, and Logan reached to take the saucer.

When he walked out of the room with all of the plates, Roman turned to Patton. “Hey, Pat?”

Patton looked up, already apprehensive, but Roman just smiled reassuringly at him. “I just wanted to ask how you were feeling.”

Patton shrugged. He was okay. He still had a headache, and he was a little dizzy, but that was nothing new. Neither was as bad as usual, so he supposed that was positive. He was still tired, unsurprisingly, but he was warm with his blankets over his lap, his stomach was comfortably full, and he had a container of water that he could drink from whenever he got thirsty.

“Can’t complain,” he said quietly.

…

Emile had left about fifteen minutes ago to find more food for the pair of littles. Virgil was still waiting: he hadn’t wanted to immediately follow his brother out just in case Emile had forgotten something. It would be awkward if he returned and found Virgil missing.

After about twenty minutes, when Virgil had grown too impatient to wait any longer, he set out.

He made his way through the walls down to the apartment where Patton was being kept, and then to one of the entrances into the room he was in. He snuck carefully out, glad to see that the room was as dark and silent as he had hoped to find it.

Virgil emerged from the hidden doorway in the wall, pushing the piece of the baseboard back into place once he was in the room. It was precisely cut so that when the pieces lined up right, the humans would never be able to tell that a doorway was hidden there. One he was sure the pieces were properly aligned, Virgil pushed aside the curtain that trailed down to cover this portion of the wall and looked towards the table where he expected to find Patton. He could see part of the cage from here, but he couldn’t see the little yet.

Virgil made quick work of getting to the base of the table, wanting to be in the open for as short a time as possible, even at this time of night. When he got to the table leg, he looked around once more, just to be extra sure he really was alone, and then started to fasten his crutches to his back. He leaned on the table leg as he got them secured, not looking to stumble and accidentally put too much weight on his bad foot.

Then, he began to climb.

…

Virgil hoisted himself up onto the table, panting. He quickly loosened the string around his waist and looked around for Patton, only to pause.

Patton wasn’t in the cage, but was instead lying on the table just outside of it. At least, Virgil thought it was him. He was underneath some blankets, which were pulled up to nearly cover his head. Virgil cautiously moved closer. For all he knew, it was just a doll wrapped up in fabric, an attempt to trick him into thinking it was the little.

“Patton?” he whispered.

The form under the blankets shifted, pale hands pushing the blankets aside as Patton’s eyes flickered open. He squinted sleepily. “…Virgil?”

Virgil sighed in relief. “Hey, there. It’s me.”

“You came back,” Patton said, his words somewhat slurred. He sounded happy about it, even if he was still half-asleep.

“I did,” Virgil confirmed.

Patton’s eyes had started to drift shut again. Virgil closed the remaining distance between them and gently shook his shoulder. “Hey, wait. Don’t go back to sleep yet, okay?”

“Mmm.”

Once Virgil was sure that Patton was paying attention, he asked, “How are you doing? Have the humans hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” Patton sounded more alert than before. “They haven’t hurt me.”

“Do you know what they’re planning to do with you?”

“No… I don’t know what they’re planning. It’s weird… like they’re not planning anything. They said they’re gonna let me go.”

“Patton, you have to know that they’re not really going to let you go.”

“I know,” he mumbled, breaking off to yawn. “But they let me stay out here tonight.”

Virgil knew that this choice was probably only because Patton would have a hard time escaping at the moment. Sure, he had made it to the floor before, and the humans didn’t know that he had had help, but they probably also assumed that Patton didn’t have an escape route from the apartment itself.  Virgil supposed that might even be true, since Patton wasn’t familiar with the pathways and hidden doors in the building. The humans probably saw it as a nearly risk-free way of tricking the little into trusting them. But judging by Patton’s subdued tone, he already knew this, too.

“I’m not going to leave you here,” Virgil promised.

Patton started to sit up. “Are we going now?”

“No,” he said regretfully. “Whatever the humans want, I think they want you healthy first. So, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to wait until you’re feeling better to get you out of here. You barely made it down to the floor last time. I just want to make sure that we get you out of here in one piece.”

Patton pouted, but he nodded his consent. Virgil blinked, having expected him to at least try to change his mind, to insist on getting out of there sooner.

“In the meantime, I need you to act sick,” Virgil eventually continued.

“But I am sick,” the other little mumbled, confused.

“I know. But the longer the humans think you’re sick, the longer I think we have until they do anything.  So just… act a bit sicker than you actually are. Just so we can be sure to get you out in time. I won’t wait long, I promise.”

Patton hesitated a moment, but then he nodded.

“Do you need anything?” Virgil asked. He’d prefer not to stay here longer than necessary, but he wanted to make sure that Patton would be okay while he was gone.

There was a long pause. Virgil quirked an eyebrow at Patton.

“Could you stay?” he finally asked.

Virgil glanced back the way he had come, then turned his gaze to Patton again, giving him a doubtful expression. Patton retaliated with puppy-dog eyes, and Virgil sighed. He nodded in reluctant agreement. He could stay for a while, he supposed.

Patton moved his blankets aside, clearly wanting the other little to join him. Virgil lay down beside him, and Patton scooted back to make more room. The two ended up lying under the blankets together, sharing a pillow. Virgil gingerly put an arm around Patton, unsure if he had any other injuries that he wasn’t aware of. Patton made a little pleased sound and snuggled closer.

“Hey, Patton?” Virgil asked quietly.

“Hmm?” Patton seemed to be already well on his way to falling back asleep.

“If the humans didn’t do this to you… what did happen? You don’t have to tell me, obviously, I mean; I don’t want to press. But…” Virgil trailed off.

Patton shifted, keeping his eyes shut.

“Sorry, that was stupid. I shouldn’t ask things like that. Just go back to sleep.”

“No,” Patton mumbled. “It’s okay.” He opened one eye. “I’ll tell you what happened to me… _if_ you tell me what happened to you.”


	17. Sharing is Caring

* * *

Virgil supposed that he couldn’t argue with Patton’s terms. It was only fair for them both to share their stories, if one of them was going to do so. He couldn’t expect Patton to share how he’d gotten where he was without giving something in return.

So, he took a deep breath, nodded, and told Patton what had happened to him.

To tell the truth, Virgil had always been a bit different. His left foot had always been weak, had always looked slightly  _wrong_. It would begin to ache much sooner than his other, like he had been standing for hours when only minutes had passed. His gait was slightly hobbled, and he couldn’t always keep up with the others. Consequentially, his parents were much more hesitant to let him leave the walls with them when they needed to gather supplies. The first time they let him come with, he was already fourteen. Emile had been allowed to accompany their mother or father on such missions at nine.

They only moved buildings once, after Emile and Virgil lost their parents. Virgil left that out of his story, instead skipping ahead to when the brothers had already moved into the apartment building. He didn’t like to dwell.

They had been in this building for nearly two years, had pretty much settled in, when things went wrong. The memory of that day was seared into his mind.

Virgil and Emile—for Virgil never let Emile go out alone back then, despite his foot—had been in one of the apartments on the ground floor, collecting food from a tenant’s kitchen while they were away. The brothers had been taking their time, since the human almost never returned before sunset, and it was still the middle of the day. They had nearly finished filling both of their satchels, and there were several hours of daylight left.

However, that particular day must have been different than the others. The two littles heard the door open much, much sooner than they had expected, much sooner than they were prepared for. They were both still out in plain view. Virgil and Emile shared a startled look and were up in an instant. They knew that they had to move, and  _fast._

Emile and Virgil ran for it, heading towards the edge of the countertop furthest from the door, where Emile’s hook was already buried in the grout between the wall and the stone countertop.

Footsteps were approaching, and the human could have seen them at any second. Emile had reached the edge of the countertop already, was holding onto the rope attached to his hook, looking back at Virgil with wide, horrified eyes, apparently not having realized that Virgil had fallen behind. He was starting to get back up, to come back, but Virgil waved him on frantically. Emile looked conflicted, but he began to descend. Virgil would need Emile to already be partway down before he could start climbing, and Emile knew that.

The human entered the room, but they clearly hadn’t looked in the littles’ direction yet. Virgil hurried to his brother’s hook and grabbed onto the rope, starting to lower himself down towards the floor. Emile, below him, hopped down on the tile and was watching him apprehensively. Virgil was a little more than halfway down when there was a loud  _smack_  above them.

The human had thrown their bag onto the countertop. It slid across the smooth stone, and to the littles’ horror, it hit the wall just in the corner. The hook was dislodged from the grout. Virgil felt the rope in his hands fall suddenly slack, and then  _he_  was falling.

Maybe there was an audible crack. Virgil didn’t know. He wouldn’t have heard it, anyway. Not over the blood rushing in his ears, not over the shock and the  _pain_  coursing through him.

He had landed on his feet. This could have theoretically helped prevent other injuries, but Virgil’s weaker foot couldn’t handle the strain. It snapped, and Virgil collapsed backwards. Arching his back on the floor in agony, he barely held in a scream.

He was aware of Emile dragging him back into the wall—his brother told him later that some of the human’s belongings had fallen from the counter, raining down around them, and their owner could have come around at any moment to fetch them. He was aware of the moment they retreated within the walls only because of the darkness, and he was more so of how much it hurt to be moved. He knew Emile was talking, sounding frantic. Virgil couldn’t make out a word he said at the time.

Eventually, he found himself lying on the floor of their house with fabric bundled under his head, gazing up at the patterns that the Christmas lights illuminating the room cast on the ceiling. He slowly sat up and found that his foot was bandaged halfway to the knee; and his white-faced brother was sitting nearby, shirtless, staring at the floor in shock.

His foot hadn’t healed correctly. Virgil could never bring himself to be surprised. It was going on three years now since that horrible day, and his foot had stopped improving long ago. He had accepted that he would never run again.

Of course, the version of this story that Virgil told Patton left out all of the unnecessary, painful details. He kept it to the essentials, more or less: the fact that he was born with a weak foot, the ill-fated supply run and his resulting broken foot, the fact that he never fully recovered. Patton didn’t need to pity him more than he seemed to already.

“And your tail?” Patton whispered.

“That’s what happens when you’re a little who can’t run,” Virgil claimed, but at Patton’s face, he quickly relented and gave a little more detail. Again, not much, but enough to satisfy his companion.

In all honesty, Virgil couldn’t have given much detail in this story if he’d wanted to.

 Back before Emile had outright forbidden him from leaving the walls, Virgil would still join him on some of their supply runs. The first pair of crutches Virgil had built after his injury didn’t let him get around as fast as the ones that he had now, but they had done the job reasonably well. And for a while, this had worked out. Emile had started to trust him more as time went on and he proved himself capable.

Until one day, about a year ago. It was just a simple supply run, to stock up on essentials for their house; but it hadn't quite worked out the way it was meant to. Unfortunately, one of the apartment owners had gotten a new cat without the littles’ knowledge. Virgil hadn’t quite escaped its swiping claws. He still wasn’t sure how he’d survived it, or how Emile had even gotten him out of there. He didn’t remember that day all that well, let alone the event itself or what happened after.

Virgil had woken up three days later to a very tearful and sleep-deprived Emile promising over and over again that he would never let his little brother get hurt again.

…

Virgil lay silently in the dark room, listening to Patton’s soft, even breathing. The other little had fallen asleep some time ago, not long after he’d finished sharing his own story. Part of Virgil was glad for that, since… he had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to react to something like that.

Virgil had known that Patton had been through some things, that he was sick, that he had been captured and kept by this pair of humans, that he had been injured somehow. But to be captured and held by a child, for who knew how long? That was unthinkable. Patton himself had admitted that he didn’t know how long his imprisonment had lasted.

“Are we talking days?” Virgil had asked, his voice barely audible. “Weeks?”

“Years, probably,” Patton had responded dully.

Virgil got the idea that Patton had left a lot out of his story, and that he softened what he did share. Virgil figured that he should be grateful for what Patton  _was_ willing to share. It was… a lot. Patton might still have his whole tail, might have the use of both legs and arms, but he was just as damaged as Virgil. Probably more so—Virgil had had Emile by his side through everything. Patton had not.

Virgil was pulled from his thoughts when Patton’s breathing changed slightly. It was shallower now, quicker. As Virgil watched, he shifted and let out a muffled squeak of fear. Patton was having a nightmare.

 _Oh, no_. Virgil moved his arm from Patton’s side and smoothed back his hair. He wanted to calm him down, but he also didn’t want to wake him up. “Patton, it’s okay. You’re here, with me, with Virgil. That brat can’t get to you now.”

Patton turned his face into Virgil’s hand, his eyes scrunched up, gasping softly. Virgil kept whispering reassurances, stroking his hair back gently, until Patton slowly relaxed again, the nightmare gone for the time being. Virgil let out a relieved breath. He didn’t know if his efforts had actually helped to banish Patton’s dream, or if that was a coincidence; but he was glad that he seemed calmer.

“I’m going to get you out of here very soon,” Virgil whispered. “I promise.”


	18. Emile Character Design

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next written chapter probably won't be out for a few more days, but have this: Emile's character design!


	19. Trust

When Patton woke up the next morning, he was alone. Virgil must have left sometime in the night. Patton sighed, unable to help but be a tiny bit disappointed. He wiggled forward until he was in the middle of the pillow rather than on only one half of it. This way it would be harder for the humans to tell that anyone else had ever been there.

After a few minutes, Patton realized that he could hear one of the humans moving around in the kitchen, which he figured must have been what had woken him. He sat up as the noises came closer, gripping the blankets nervously. It quickly became clear that the human was coming towards him and would be in sight at any second.

Logan stepped into the room holding a small, shiny bundle in one hand. It was slightly bigger than the size of Patton’s head. The human looked surprised to see that Patton was awake.

“Good morning,” he said, almost businesslike, although he was thankfully keeping his voice quiet. “I brought you some breakfast—you may eat it now, or you may wait until later this morning. Either way, it should stay warm until you’re hungry.” He set down the bundle on the table, far enough from Patton that he didn’t get too agitated at the approach.

Patton lifted himself up on his elbows and looked at it. He couldn’t see what the food was, though, since it was wrapped up in aluminum foil.

“I have to go to class, now,” Logan continued, as if Patton were supposed to know what ‘class’ was. “Do you need anything before I go?”

Patton hesitated before shaking his head. He probably would have denied it even if he _had_ needed something.

Logan nodded, taking his response at face value. “Alright; in that case, have a good day.  Roman should be up in a couple of hours, and I will return early this afternoon.”

Patton blinked at him, unsure what to do with this information.

“Farewell.”

Logan left, the apartment door closing behind him with a soft click. Patton stared after him for a moment, then put his head down on his arms and went back to sleep.

…

Virgil sat in the main room of his and his brother’s house, thinking. He really wished that he hadn’t had to tell Patton all of those personal things about himself the night before, but he wouldn’t have considered lying about it instead. He wouldn’t manipulate Patton like that.

He supposed it was worth it to know what exactly Patton had been through. What he was continuing to go through.

Still, Virgil couldn’t help but feel that a guy like Patton—someone who put others before himself, who was so kind and sweet—would only take Emile’s side and try to tell him that he shouldn’t leave the relative safety of the walls. Virgil couldn’t help but resent that, even if it was only a supposition. He might have been crippled, but he was no helpless invalid.

Virgil sighed and looked towards the watch face propped up in one corner of the room. The black numbers blinked slowly at him. It was quite early in the day to be awake, especially for a little, since they tended towards nocturnality; but Virgil couldn’t sleep. Emile wasn’t back yet from his supply run, so Virgil was just sitting by himself, stuck with his thoughts. Thoughts which kept going back to Patton. Virgil knew that in all likelihood, the other little was simply sleeping at this early hour, but Virgil couldn’t help but be concerned. He was the one who was too hesitant, too cautious, to have helped him escape the night before. If anything happened to him, it would be Virgil’s fault.

…

The next time Patton woke up, he could tell that the sun had risen higher, since the room was considerably brighter than it had been before. Once again, he could hear a human stirring in another room of the apartment. That must be Roman, he realized.

Patton pushed aside the blankets and got to his feet, swaying for a second. Once he steadied himself, Patton made his way over to the food Logan had left behind. He knelt beside it and unwrapped the foil, revealing a warm, yellow food. Patton recognized it as a bit of scrambled egg, a type of food he had actually seen quite commonly in the past; but Logan had added some cheese in the foil along with it. Had he done that because he knew Patton liked it? Or was it coincidental? Patton didn’t know, so he just dug into the food.

Once he had eaten as much as he could, Patton folded up the foil again as neatly as he could, sealing the remaining egg inside. He was trying to be neat. One of the humans gave off the sense that he preferred things that way—perhaps not making a mess would help keep himself in that human’s good graces. As for the other one, Patton wasn’t sure how to keep him happy.

…

Patton was sitting against the outer wall of the cage, slowly sipping at some water. He drained the cup, set it to the side, and looked down at the bottle cap he was drinking from, regarding it with the side of his head leaned against the bars. He was almost out of water again. Perhaps he should have asked Logan about that this morning, in hindsight.

However, Roman, who came into the room just minutes after this thought occurred to the little, had apparently already thought of this. He was carrying a bottle cap in one hand. It looked like he was just about ready to leave for the day: he was wearing a jacket and carrying a bag over one shoulder, and his footsteps were louder than usual. That last part put Patton on edge, even though he knew it to be only because Roman was wearing shoes.

“Hi, Patton,” he said brightly, yet still in a low volume. He set down the water-filled bottle cap and collected the other two empty ones that he and the other human had previously provided. Patton stiffened slightly and leaned away from the enormous hand until it was retracted

“Sorry I can’t stay too long,” Roman said apologetically, putting both bottle caps in one hand. “I’m running late.”

Patton said nothing, just waiting, reluctantly expectant, for what he knew was coming.

“I’ll be back at lunch, okay?”

He seemed to want some sort of response, so Patton nodded. Roman smiled kindly at him, and then he left the apartment.

Wait— _what?_

Patton was alone. Just… on the table. Neither Roman nor Logan had even brought up the possibility of locking him back in the cage.

Sure, Patton supposed that sticking him back in there could have slipped the human’s mind—he had mentioned being in a hurry, after all; but still, this was odd. It was one thing to let Patton stay out when he was with the humans, or even when they were in the next room. But to leave him out when they weren’t even in the apartment?

It just didn’t make any sense.

…

Patton sat there against the wall of the cage for a while after Roman left, debating what he should do. This moment could be, potentially, a good time to attempt an escape, but Patton remembered what Virgil had said. It was true that he was still sick, that he very well might not make it down to the floor on his own. Less than three days had passed since he nearly drowned, after all, and he had been sick well before that happened. He had no hook, no rope, nothing to aid him. He didn’t know where Virgil was, and he wasn’t about to shout out his name in a blind hope that he was close by. And even if he did get to the floor safely, Patton didn’t know where the hidden doors into the walls were. He was pretty sure that there was one near the window curtain to his right, the one Virgil had been pulling him towards when he had tried to help Patton escape two days before, but where would he even go from there?

The little reached up and pulled himself to his feet with help from the cage’s bars. He held on for a second or two to steady himself and then made his way back over to his blankets and pillow. He wrapped himself up in the blankets, welcoming the warmth.

 _Just focus on getting better,_ he told himself. Patton knew that that was what Virgil and what his family, wherever they were, would want him to do. Virgil would come back for him.

…

Roman got home first at lunchtime, even though he had to stop at the store. Logan, the nerd, had probably stayed behind at the campus to write a list of corrections to his textbooks’ authors or something. (Seriously, he had done that exact thing in their freshman year, with an outdated psychology manual that he had found particularly irksome. Long story.)

He set a small bag of groceries on the counter and went to go say hi to Patton, who was hopefully still where he had left him. It had been his insistence that had led to Patton being allowed to stay out today, rather than in the cage. Roman had argued that Patton was well enough to not go wandering off the edge of the table or into some other dangerous situation. Logan appreciated appeals to logic, although Roman had to admit that part of the effectiveness of his argument came from the fact that Logan would have had to skip classes—unthinkable—to stop him.

So, hopefully, Patton was still there. Roman didn’t know what he’d do if he wasn’t. He didn’t want to think about what that might mean for Patton, about what might happen to him. And he would never hear the end of it from his roommate.

So, it was a relief when he got to the other room, knocking softly on the doorframe, and Roman saw that the mouse-man was still there. Patton was back in ‘bed’, curled up under his blankets and with his head on the pillow Roman had made him—that fact made a little burst of pride bloom in his chest. He was wide awake, looking up at the ceiling, apparently just resting.

“Hi, Pat,” Roman said. “How are you?”

Patton sat up, wincing slightly at what Roman could only assume was the pressure this put on his bruised torso. The mouse-man shrugged, not looking directly at him. Roman couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Want some lunch?”

Roman didn’t miss the hopeful-looking glance that darted his way. He smiled, although his heart ached a little at the reaction.

“I’ll make us some. Logan should be back soon, so I’ll make enough for him, too.” He started to leave the room, then paused. “Oh, yeah!”

Patton looked up rather sharply at that. Roman did his best to smother his guilt and recall what he’d been about to say.

“Do you… uh… well, I’ve been thinking, and… would you like something else to wear? That outfit you’ve got on isn’t exactly in great shape.” Not only was it dirty and torn, but the majority of it looked like it had once been hot pink, perhaps not a color that the mouse-man had used by choice. Even if it was, Patton would probably feel much better in something new. The pants of his current ensemble barely reached his knees, which along with the short sleeves of Patton’s shirt certainly wouldn’t be helping him stay as warm as he could be. “I could try to make you something, or find something at a store. I’ve even got some fabric in my room—I do costume stuff, sometimes, for the theatre program at school—that you could look through.”

Patton didn’t seem to know how to process his offer, wide-eyed and silent.

Roman licked his lips and looked towards the kitchen. “How about you think it over, and I’ll just start cooking. Deal?”

Patton didn’t really respond, so Roman just hoped for the best and made his way out of the room. He went into the kitchen and looked through the bag of groceries he’d picked up. Logan had stressed the importance of choosing healthy meals for Patton’s sake, and while Roman wasn’t exactly Mr. Junkfood, he figured he could make more of an effort to oblige the request since he had gotten his way with Patton being allowed to remain out during the day.

So, Roman was making rice with veggies and tofu for lunch.

…

Virgil was messing around with a game—one of those ones where you tried to get a tiny ball through a maze and into a hole in the center—to help distract himself, when Emile finally returned. He was several hours later than Virgil had expected, and the little had begun to worry. Emile didn’t say a word at first, dragging his feet as he walked. He dropped his bag of supplies on the floor near Virgil without stopping as he continued on into the bedroom. Virgil tossed the toy he’d been holding to the side, grabbed his crutches, and followed.

Emile had already collapsed facedown into the bed by the time he got inside. His hook and rope were discarded at his feet.

“You okay, Emile?” Virgil asked, looking down at his brother. He knelt at his side, propping his crutches against the wall.

“Tired,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the blanket he had pressed his face into.

“What happened? It’s almost noon.”

“First two apartments didn’t work out,” he sighed, turning his head just slightly to be heard.

“Oh,” Virgil said. He shifted guiltily. Situations like this were why he hated so much that Emile didn’t let him help him out. Emile’s trip would probably have taken significantly less time with Virgil there, even with his injured foot, and they could have brought twice as much stuff back with them. This feeling was only made worse by the fact that, for all Emile knew, Virgil had just been sitting here the entire time, messing with a toy and doing nothing useful to anyone.

He opened his mouth—to say what, he didn’t know—only to be interrupted by a quiet snore from the bed. Virgil softened. He reached out and gently rested a hand on Emile’s shoulder for a few moments before getting back to his feet. He paused to loosen the lightbulb closest to the bed, effectively turning it out, and then went back into the other room.

He sat down with Emile’s bag and started unpacking what he had brought back:  four pieces of cereal, half a pack of Smarties, some cheese crackers, and enough grains of rice to fill the remainder of the bag. Virgil stored each item in its proper place and left Emile’s bag where his brother usually kept it. He then grabbed their broom and left one of his crutches in its place, figuring he could clean around the house while Emile rested. It was the least he could do.

...

Logan opened the apartment door to a smell that even he had to admit was rather heavenly. Roman looked up from his spot by the stove as he came in, a grin on his face. He was wearing an apron that he’d had for years, black with “Prince” on it in the iconic Disney font, a fanciful crown perched on the P. He’d gotten Logan a matching “Princess” one as a gag gift a few months back, which Logan of course refused to wear.

“What are you cooking?” Logan asked, setting his bag down at the table.

“Don’t worry, you’ll like it. It’s just rice with veggies and tofu with a little sauce.” he responded cheerily. “It’s almost done, just give me a couple minutes.”

Logan glanced towards the living room and lowered his voice. “Is Patton still…?”

“Of course. I told you, he’s fine.”

Logan sighed, then went to go help Roman split up the food into bowls—or rather, two bowls and a large bottlecap. He noted that Roman had made rather a lot of food—there would be leftovers.

“Hey, Lo, look what I got today,” Roman said after a minute.

“I am occupied at the moment,” Logan answered, not looking up. He was currently focused on using a kitchen knife to cut up some of the tofu, carrots, and peas into smaller pieces for the convenience of their guest.

“Come on, just look for a second.”

Logan sighed, set down the knife, and looked over at his roommate, who grinned.

“I grabbed it from the theatre department today.” Roman reached in his pocket and pulled something out, showing it proudly to Logan. It was a minuscule piece of plastic—upon closer inspection, a tiny fork.

“I see.”

“They used a dollhouse as part of the set for a production a couple years ago. It was just sitting in one of the supply closets, since they like to keep props in case they come in handy in the future. I figured they wouldn’t miss this.”

Logan nodded. It was a good idea, he would admit. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Roman stealing, but it was such a small thing, and he had to admit it didn’t sound like anyone would care. Besides, if it helped Patton, he felt that it was certainly worthwhile.


	20. More Gifts

Logan and Roman had apparently decided that the three of them were all going to eat lunch together in the same room again. They brought in chairs, like before, from the kitchen, and placed them near the table Patton was seated on.

Roman placed two items on the table in front of him. Patton scooted forward once both humans had sat down, pulling both objects towards himself. One was the bottlecap containing his lunch, which he was eager to dig into, but he took a second to inspect the new item first: a fork. It was pale blue, slightly wide for Patton’s hand; but with a little shaving of the handle and some sharpening of the tines, it would be perfect. It would make things much easier even before he got the chance to make those modifications. Why would the humans give him this? He looked up, searching for an answer, but all the human did was gesture at his food as if to say, “go ahead”.

The three of them started to eat. Patton had never had a food quite like this one. It had rice and carrots and peas, all of which he had had before, but there were also some little cubes of a weird spongey thing that he didn’t recognize.

“This is called tofu,” Roman supplied after a moment, holding up a larger version of one of the cubes speared on his fork. Patton wondered, not for the first time, if he was really that easy to read. Maybe Roman just assumed that Patton didn’t know anything.

“Oh,” he heard himself say, barely audible even to his own sharp ears.

They ate in silence for a while longer before Roman spoke again.

“So, Pat,” he began, setting his bowl down in his lap. “Did you think about what I asked? About your outfit?”

Patton squirmed a little under the human’s gaze. It didn’t help as Logan glanced curiously between the two of them. He tugged at the fabric of his pantleg, but he quickly stopped when it threatened to unravel in his fingers. He really would have liked something new to wear, something clean and warm, but the thought of what the process of getting a new outfit might entail mildly terrified him. He couldn’t figure out why the human even cared about his clothes. Maybe it was like when Marissa had first given him the doll dress to make his current outfit from: she had wanted him to match the rest of her dolls, in mostly pink. Maybe these humans simply didn’t like this outfit.

“I could give you the materials,” Roman offered. “And you could make it yourself. If you’re feeling up to it, I mean.”

Patton bit his lip in indecision. He wanted to say yes. He really would like some new clothes. He just wasn’t sure what the humans’ motive was. But shouldn’t he just take advantage of the opportunity?

Logan spoke up now. “I can assure you that you have no need to worry. Should the option of crafting your own clothes be most acceptable to you, all _we_ would do is provide the supplies. We could place them on the table for your use and the leave the room while you worked, but we could stay close enough to hear you if you needed something.”

Patton opened his mouth and shut it again. “O-okay,” he mumbled at last.

Logan was apparently satisfied with that response, as he simply went back to eating. Roman gave him what was probably meant to be a reassuring look, but Patton couldn’t help but notice how unhappy the human looked as he, too, resumed his meal.

Patton let out a long breath, relieved to no longer have their attention focused on him. He speared a bit of tofu on his fork. He didn’t know why Roman would be sad that Patton agreed to his idea. But then again, there were many things he didn’t understand about either of them.

…

After several minutes, Roman still hadn’t eaten much of his food. It hurt, honestly, that Patton was still afraid that they were going to do him harm. The little mouse-man’s body language made that clear. He knew he shouldn’t take it personally, but he couldn’t help it. Roman had been trying so hard to help him feel safe, and yet it sometimes felt like he was making no progress.

“I’m going to go get my fabric and things,” he announced softly. “For you to use.”

Roman got up without waiting for a response. He brought his bowl out into the kitchen and left next to the sink, then walked through the kitchen and down the hall to his bedroom. He knelt at the side of his bed and pulled out a cardboard box that was stored there. He scooped that up and brought it over to his desk.

He lifted up the lid and pawed through its contents. After a few moments, he paused, frowning in confusion.

Roman could have sworn that there had been more fabric in this box than there was now. It wasn’t a huge difference—just a handful of pieces; but some patterned buttons he liked, a small patch of lace, and a length of red string should all have been in here. It seemed like there might be more missing, as well, but Roman was unsure. The absence of the other items that were missing—assuming any other items were, in fact, missing—didn’t immediately jump out at him. As for the ones that he was sure should have been in the box, Roman had no idea where they had gone. Maybe they had fallen out, or had gotten moved somewhere else? Roman wasn’t sure where else they could be, although it was true that it had been some time since he looked through this particular box. It was perfectly plausible that he had misremembered what was originally in it.

He looked through the supplies once more, then at the sides of the box itself. One of its seams had somehow popped out slightly, almost like it had been pulled or pushed. Roman would have thought that perhaps something had fallen on the box and popped it out, but the lid was untouched. He supposed it didn’t matter; it wasn’t an expensive box, and the hole wasn’t big. Still, Roman double checked the floor between the box’s place under his bed and the desk, to see if maybe the supplies had fallen out of the hole when he moved the box. No such luck.

Roman wasn’t disheartened. There should still be plenty here for the mouse-man to work with, including the miniature pair of fabric scissors that had come with a little sewing kit he had. They would still be comically large, but far more usable than a normally sized pair would be for someone like Patton.

 _‘Someone like Patton’._ As he picked out items that Patton might want from the box, Roman shook his head in bewilderment. He didn’t even know what that meant. Neither he nor Logan knew what Patton was, and they probably never would. Granted, Roman didn’t care about the science-y, ‘evolution and biology of the mouse-man’-type stuff like Logan would, but he was plenty interested in the ‘how-the-heck-does-this-tiny-dude-exist’ side of things. He was curious. Of course he was.

Despite his burning curiosity, Roman didn’t mind if he never got an answer to his own questions. Or rather, he supposed he did, but he knew that taking care of the mouse-man was far more important. It wouldn’t be worth scaring Patton to satiate his curiosity. Roman wasn’t heartless. He had only known Patton for a few days—and he still barely knew him—but he already cared about him a great deal.

With a small pile of fabric, thread, and the tiniest needle and fabric scissors he owned, Roman returned to the living room.

…

Patton stared with wide eyes as the human, from his perspective, dumped a small mountain of fabric on the table. The gigantic hand left two more items at the mound’s side: a sewing needle and some scissors.

“You can have whatever you want from here,” Roman said, drawing Patton’s gaze back up to him. “And if you need anything else, just let me know. Okay?” He smiled uncertainly; but he didn’t seem to expect a response, as he went and sat back down without waiting for one.

Patton stared at the pile of fabric for a long moment.

“It’s not going anywhere,” Roman assured gently. Patton slowly looked away again, ducked his head, and went back to eating.


	21. New Outfit

In the afternoon, Roman returned to class.

Patton, meanwhile, spent the afternoon starting his new outfit. He looked through some of the pile of fabric, picking out some soft but durable scraps in pale blue and gray. The blue fabric had some small pieces cut out of it, so he would probably need to use some of the gray to fill in the gaps, but he really liked its color. It reminded him of the sky.

For simplicity’s sake, Patton used his existing outfit and one of his colored pencils to trace the pieces for the new one, but he extended the sleeves and the pantlegs. He had to take frequent breaks, since the work worsened both his dizziness and his headache. He didn’t want to ask for help, though: he wanted to do this himself.

When Logan left a few hours later to go to work, he let Patton stay out once again. He only requested that the little please be careful since he was still recovering.

“We desire for you to feel comfortable here,” Logan had said. “But we do ask that you refrain from inadvertently causing harm to yourself.”

Patton still didn’t quite believe that they would really let him go, or that their intentions were as pure as they claimed, but he was happy that he hadn’t been locked in the cage.

Once he finished getting the pieces for his new outfit traced out, Patton took a break from that to sharpen the fork that Roman had given him. He used one of the scissor blades to accomplish this, slowly slicing off pieces of the plastic until the fork was the perfect size and sharpness. Patton sat back, looking at the final result with pride.

Later on, Patton started cutting out the pieces for his outfit. The scissors were kind of weird, but he figured them out. He was used to having to use a homemade knife to slice the fabric, so this was quite different; and, once he got the hang of it, he found it much easier than the method he was accustomed to. He got the pieces for his new pants cut out pretty quickly, and he had them almost a quarter of the way sewn together before he decided to stop for the time being.

Patton didn’t know the time, but he figured it couldn’t be long until the humans returned from wherever they had gone. He took the fabric he planned to use for his outfit and hid it in one of the books by the cage. Patton couldn’t have explained why exactly he did that. It just made him feel better.

Once his partially-finished outfit was properly hidden, Patton’s gaze kept going back to the mound of fabric scraps. After a long while of indecisiveness, he finally walked up to the pile, and pulled a couple more scraps of fabric from it—a fluffy, maroon square and a thick, black rectangle. He went back to where his blankets were, dragging the fabric behind him. He curled up there on top of the coarse black fabric (it was much softer than the table itself) and piled the maroon fabric on top of himself along with his two existing blankets. He tucked his pillow under his head and snuggled into the warmth. He knew Roman had really only offered him the fabric for his outfit, but he could take advantage of the extra pieces while he was gone… right?

 _He might be upset_ , Patton’s mind couldn’t keep from telling him. Roman might be mad that Patton had taken more fabric than he needed. Marissa hadn’t let him have more for sleeves and longer pantlegs, after all. The fact that Roman had provided so much fabric was reassuring, but Patton was still worried.

 _Calm down_ , he told himself. _You’ll be okay. If he doesn’t want you to have more blankets, you can just give them back._ Roman and Logan were still putting on their (probably) fake friendliness act, so surely they wouldn’t hurt him too badly, if they were mad? Unless they ended the act tonight… but Patton hoped he had some time until that happened. Virgil seemed to think he did.

Either way, Patton was so delightfully warm at that moment that he couldn’t motivate himself to remove any of the blankets. He was just going to hope for the best, scary though that was.

…

Emile groaned, blinking awake. His whole body ached fiercely, and if he weren’t so desperately thirsty, he would have gone back to sleep right then and there. His life was hard work. Unfortunately, it wasn’t uncommon for him to return home this exhausted.

Emile pushed himself to his feet and made his way into the next room without turning on the light. He squinted upon entering the next room, his eyes not having yet adjusted.

“Emile?” He opened his eyes to see his brother looking at him in concern.

“I just wanted some water,” Emile assured, walking into the room. “I’m okay.”

“I can get it for you,” Virgil offered. He had one crutch pinned under his arm, leaning on it as he held their broom. He’d probably been sweeping up until the second Emile came into the room. Emile smiled. His brother was so considerate.

“Don’t worry, I can do it. You look like you have your hands full already.” With that, he crossed the room and opened the little container of water they kept in the corner. He picked up one of their cups. One was folded out of aluminum foil, the other a former toothpaste cap. He chose the former. He scooped up the water and took a long drink, closing his eyes in relief. He filled the cup again and padded back across the room with it. He yawned, mumbling, “I’m going back to bed.”

“Good night,” Virgil offered as he resumed his sweeping. Neither cared that it was the middle of the day.

…

It turned out that Patton had miscalculated a bit, and over an hour went by before either human got home. Patton was half-dozing in his warm cocoon when he finally heard the door open and close quietly. Immediately wide awake, Patton listened. He heard a relieved sigh from whichever human it was, a soft thud like they’d dropped whatever they were holding, and soft footsteps as they made their way closer.

Roman came into the room. Patton tensed, but all the human did was let out a soft “Oh!” when he saw how Patton had bundled himself up. “Are you cold?” he asked, smiling in a sweet, concerned sort of way.

Patton shook his head, letting himself untense slightly and snuggle back into the blankets. Roman wasn’t mad at him.

“Did you work on your outfit at all?” he asked.

Patton noted the way Roman phrased that. He hadn’t said, “Where’s your outfit?” or even “Did you finish your outfit?”, but rather, had asked if he had _worked on it_. Roman wasn’t planning to take away the fabric yet. Comforted by the realization, Patton nodded.

“Is it going okay? Do you need any help?”

Patton shook his head again, pulling one of the blankets up to cover more of himself. “I’m okay,” he claimed quietly.

“Okay. I know talking to me stresses you out…” Roman let out a quiet, slightly sad laugh, “so I just have one more question. Is it okay if I watch tv in here? I’ll keep the volume low.”

Patton looked up at him, then hesitantly nodded. If the volume wasn’t loud… Plus, Roman’s attention would be on the screen, rather than on him.

Roman smiled. “Great!” he walked over to the tv and started messing with something at its base. The screen flickered to life, glowing bright colors. The human got up, walked over to the sofa, and collapsed onto it with his eyes on the screen.

Patton quickly realized that Roman was watching a cartoon. He thought he recognized this one, but he didn’t know its name. He was pretty sure that Marissa had watched a couple episodes once. Curious, he rolled onto his stomach. The height of the table let him see the tv over the back of the sofa that Roman was on, so he laid his head and arms on his pillow and watched. He didn’t understand a lot of what was going on, but he was interested. Roman had kept his promise about setting the volume low, but Patton could still hear everything. After a while, he got pretty immersed in the show. Consequentially, he started rather badly when the human spoke.

“Hey, Patton? Are you watching this?”

Patton scrambled to his hands and knees, pushing himself up. His head pounded in complaint, and the room swam for a couple of seconds. Patton blinked hard. Roman was looking at him over the back of the couch.

“Sorry—sorry!” Roman said in alarm, seeing his reaction. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He waited until Patton slowly lowered himself back down, looking concerned. “I just wanted to know, are you watching this? I should probably go work on homework, but I can leave this on if you want.”

Patton shifted uncomfortably. He liked the show, but he also wanted to be able to hear what was going on elsewhere in the building. Roman waited patiently for a response, shifting his gaze so he wasn’t looking directly at Patton.

“Okay,” he murmured, making a decision.

“Leave it on?”

He nodded. It was quiet enough, and Patton would just make sure not to get too distracted.

“Sure thing.” Roman got up from the couch, gave Patton a small smile, and walked out into the kitchen.

…

After dinner that night, Patton decided to work on his outfit again. The television was off now—Logan had turned it off during dinner, and Patton had refused Roman’s offer to turn it back on afterwards. He knew that having it on would mean that the humans had to come back later in the night to turn it off for him.

When Patton finished sewing together the pants, he finally sat back, putting his supplies to the side. Gosh, his head hurt. He might have overdone it. He’d just been very eager to have something new to wear.

Patton put on the new pants, glad to find that they fit pretty well, and the fabric was in fact warmer than that of his old knee-length pair. Then, he sat against the outer wall of the cage, closing his eyes against the pounding in his head. Trying to finish his outfit tonight had definitely been a mistake.

…

Virgil returned that night. Patton noticed only as he pulled himself up over the lip of the table, appearing as barely more than a silhouette against the dark room beyond. Patton started to sit up straighter, a question on his lips.

"Not yet," the newcomer whispered before he could ask.

Patton nodded, reluctantly sitting back against the cage wall and watching as Virgil came closer. Patton couldn’t help but wish he were leaving the humans tonight, even if his headache meant that that was likely a very bad idea. 

"Why are you here, kiddo?" he asked, his voice just as quiet as Virgil’s had been.

"I just..." he paused, hands on the string he'd been loosening to get his crutches off of his back. "I, um, I thought that you might want some company. That I owed you that, at least... since you're still here and everything."

Patton smiled, ignoring the throb of pain that went through his head in protest. "I’d like that," he admitted, although his frown quickly returned. "But… you don't have to come here if you don't want to, or if it's not safe. Don't put yourself in danger just for me."

Virgil sighed, setting his crutches down on the table beside him. He pushed himself up and used them to walk closer to Patton. Upon reaching his side, Virgil frowned down at him. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, kiddo,” Patton said, trying to sound convincing. It didn’t quite work.

“No… what’s wrong?” Virgil asked, not buying it. He quickly knelt down at Patton’s side. “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you? Damn it, this is my fault; I should’ve come sooner—.”

“No, no!” Patton whisper-yelled hurriedly. “It’s just a bit of a headache, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” Virgil echoed, sounding relieved.

“Mhm. I was working on some new clothes today. Guess I overdid it.” Patton tried to laugh, to show it was really just a humorously foolish mistake on his part, but he broke off with a pained wince.

Virgil regarded him for a couple of seconds, then scooted to sit next to Patton. He grabbed the pillow from the table in front of them and set it in his lap. He patted it and looked at the other little expectantly.

Patton blinked, looking tiredly from the pillow to Virgil and back again. It took him a moment to realize what Virgil wanted. He lay down on his stomach, his head and arms on the pillow. He felt Virgil’s careful fingers land lightly on his scalp and start to gently rub. Patton let out a little sigh as Virgil worked around the back and sides of his head, then down his neck. The massage didn’t get rid of his headache entirely, but it helped, and after a while, Patton was finally able to fall asleep, Virgil’s fingertips still rubbing in little relaxing circles.

…

Patton opened his eyes half-way. It was dark in the room, still, but he could hear a quiet, regular sound. His half-asleep mind was having trouble placing what exactly it was. Patton looked around sleepily, his eyes landing on a form not far away, their back to Patton. When they sat up, he realized it was Virgil. He was bent over something, Patton couldn’t tell what. Patton wanted to go over and see, to ask what he was doing; but his eyelids were closing against his will; and he drifted off again.

He woke up again to the feeling of a hand stroking through his hair. Patton stirred slightly, and the hand was quickly taken away. Patton stilled, hopeful, and after a few moments the hand returned, its touch even softer than before. Patton focused on the feeling. His head still ached, but he was happy to have Virgil here. He let out a quiet hum. The hand paused for a second before continuing.

“Are you awake?” Virgil whispered, so soft that Patton might’ve missed it had he not been paying attention.

“Mmm,” Patton responded as confirmation.

“How’s your head?”

He shrugged one shoulder noncommittally.

“Some water might help.” Patton felt Virgil shift. “Can you sit up for a sec?”

Patton did, swaying slightly at the wave of dizziness this caused. Virgil held tightly onto his shoulder, probably noticing.

“Here you go.” Patton blinked, seeing that Virgil was holding up his sunflower seed shell, partially filled with water. Patton put his hands under it and took a few sips. Virgil put it to the side and helped Patton lay back down, in Virgil’s lap again this time.

“Any better?”

Patton did his best to nod, not lifting his head.

“I can… you know… try to help, if you want, again.”

Patton let out a soft hopeful whine, and he heard a soft breath of laughter from Virgil before the other little started gently massaging Patton’s head again.

…

Once again, Patton woke to find that Virgil was gone. He pouted for a second in disappointment, even though it was for the best that he wasn’t there in the morning for the humans to find. Pushing that aside, Patton sat up with a yawn. He was feeling much better this morning. He stopped in confusion, seeing the bit of fabric that had been put over him.  He picked it up and looked at it in surprise.

Virgil had sewn together the pieces for Patton’s shirt for him. 

He stared at it for a long moment, then pulled off his old pink shirt to replace it. The new blue and gray one was much softer, warmer, and cleaner. The hem was admittedly a little short, but that was okay. Patton was happy with it.

Patton only took a few minutes to admire the new shirt before he snuggled back into his blankets, waiting for the humans to inevitably show up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this part includes the first time Patton smiles in this story, not including his character design.  
> Also, for anybody who wants to comment but doesn't know what to say: what's your favorite color?


	22. A Study in Patton

Roman had been rather distracted in his classes lately, and to be honest, it was starting to affect his work. In his defense, he felt that no one would be able to blame him if they knew what was going on. Finding Patton, a not-quite-five-inch-tall, half-drowned, sick and scared mouse-man who had to be nursed back to health and whose trust had to be painstakingly earned, was something that he felt plenty of people would consider distracting. Roman would argue that he was dealing with it very well, thank you very much.

Of course, it wasn’t as if he could just tell people what was going on—and they wouldn’t believe him, anyway, even if he _wanted_ to do that—so his professors were just getting very annoyed with him lately, assuming he was just slacking off and not paying attention. (Okay, so maybe he wasn’t paying as much attention as he could have, but again, tiny, sick mouse-men were distracting!)

So, Roman was already in a foul mood when he got home from his morning classes on Thursday.

He let himself into his and Logan’s apartment and closed the door behind him. He leaned his head back against the wood with a heavy sigh, then pushed himself off of it and walked out into the kitchen. He put his backpack in its usual spot in the corner and stretched, reaching up towards the ceiling with a groan.

“Long morning?” asked Logan, looking up from where he was scribbling in a notebook.

“You could say that,” Roman sighed. He glanced at the living room, silently debated for a second, and then walked towards the doorway. He didn’t know if Patton would appreciate seeing him; and sure, they were going to see each other when they ate lunch either way; but he just wanted to say hello and to check on the little guy. Plus, Logan had mentioned that Patton should become more at ease as he grew accustomed to their presence. He couldn’t grow accustomed to them if they always stayed away.

All Roman really wanted was for Patton to feel safe. To know that they weren’t going to hurt him.

With this in mind, Roman entered the room. He knocked quietly on the doorframe just before he did so, wanting to give Patton a warning. He could imagine that a giant—which he was, from Patton’s perspective—suddenly bursting in might be rather startling.

“Hey, Pat,” he said, putting on his best smile. Patton was on the table, bundled up in all his blankets, but his arms were free. He was drawing, the little box of supplies Roman had given him at his side.

Patton looked up at him.

“How was your morning?” he asked.

Patton shrugged, twiddling with the colored pencil lead he held in one hand.

“I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier, but I really like your new outfit. You look nice.”

Patton glanced down at himself, shifting. Roman couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“It’s pretty remarkable you know, that you can put together a whole outfit like that in a day,” Roman continued, and he meant it.  “Did you stay up all night working on it? Did you get enough sleep?”

Patton looked away, seeming a little awkward now. He shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he backtracked, his heart sinking, “or to bother you. I just wanted to say I’m impressed.”

Patton glanced up at him. Maybe Roman was just seeing what he wanted to see, but he thought he saw a hint of pride in Patton’s eyes.

“Anyway, lunch is soon. I’ll leave you alone for a bit ’til then.” He gave Patton a little wave and went back out into the kitchen. Logan was still sitting there, at the table, bent over his notebook. Roman sat down heavily next to him.

Logan looked up and regarded him for a moment. “What would you like for lunch?” he asked. “I can cook today.”

“I don’t care. Whatever’s easiest, I suppose.”

Logan nodded and got up, leaving his notebook and pencil on the table. As he flipped it shut and went to prepare lunch, Roman caught a glimpse of one of the pages. Frowning, he pulled it over and reopened it. He read the contents of the page in a heavy silence.

A moment passed before Roman picked up the notebook and walked over to where Logan was standing at the counter.

“Ah, Roman, would you mind handing me the—.”

“What the hell is this?” Roman asked, waving the notebook under Logan’s nose.

“One of my notebooks,” Logan said, frowning. “I would appreciate if you didn’t touch my personal effects.” He moved to take it back, but Roman held the book just out of reach. Logan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Is there a reason for this childish exchange?”

Roman huffed at him and opened the notebook to a particular page. It held a rough sketch of what at first glance seemed to be a human, until one saw the long tail. The body and each limb were marked with measurements, and there were notes written in small script on the side. Data and observations and questions. About Patton.

“You’re studying him!” Roman snapped, keeping his volume low so that Patton wouldn’t overhear.

Logan seemed confused. “I am afraid that I do not see the issue. As a member of the scientific community, it is imperative to attempt to further humanity’s knowledge of the universe as much as possible. Even putting that aside, it is important to understand Patton as best as possible in order to determine how to help him.”

“He’s not some test subject in a lab!”

“I know that, Roman. I have neither harmed Patton nor pressured him to provide any information that he did not want to provide.”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t want you measuring him.”

“I took those measurements when we first brought him here,” Logan admitted. He turned off the stove so that what he was cooking would not burn. “Not only as scientific data—which is, regardless of Patton’s personhood, important to collect—but also in case it became necessary in the future.” He was starting to sound agitated. “Had we been the ones to make him clothes, or needed to put a cast on one of his limbs, or attempted to as accurately as possible determine a dosage of medicine, or had any other relevant event occurred, these measurements could have been instrume—.”

“Those are excuses,” Roman said, his voice deathly quiet. Logan broke off at his tone. There was a long moment of silence before finally, he spoke again.

“Are you telling me I should not attempt to understand the world around me? Besides, the data I have collected is not of the conventional, experimental sort, but rather a collection of observations, developing hypotheses, and recommendations of future actions based on said hypotheses.”

“Goddamn it, Logan, I’m telling you not to treat Patton like he’s some scientific discovery. He is a _person_ , a _sick_ and _hurt person_ who needs our _help_. He doesn’t need you seeing him as your ticket to a Nobel Prize, or whatever you’re doing this for. Don’t pretend it’s out of some kind of ‘scientific duty’ or that you’re doing it to help him.”

Logan reached for his notebook once more, but he unsurprisingly failed to snatch it. “What do you want from me?” he asked. “I can’t just… _not_ document my findings.”

“You can learn about him the normal way,” Roman said. “Like any normal human being learns about other people. As an equal. Not something to be studied.”

Logan looked towards the other room, towards the wall behind which they both knew Patton was. “Perhaps I have been a little overly engrossed in understanding him,” Logan finally sighed. “At first, at least. Although I do maintain that my notes are invaluable data.”

Roman figured that this was about as close as he would get to Logan admitting he was wrong about this. He’d take it for now, if only because he didn’t want to keep arguing. He slipped the little notebook into his inside jacket pocket, ignoring the hurt look Logan gave him at the action. “Let’s just have lunch.”

…

Lunch was a somewhat tense affair.

Patton seemed to pick up on it, probably from Logan’s part. Roman was using his usual cheerful, gentle tone towards the “mouse-man”, looking for all the world as if nothing was wrong. Logan sometimes forgot how good of an actor Roman was.

Logan himself, meanwhile, was only picking at his spaghetti. He was doing his best to act normally, too, but it was difficult.

After a while of mostly being left out of the conversation—which was, admittedly, more just Roman speaking and Patton occasionally nodding or saying a single quiet word in response than an actual conversation—he heard Roman say, “I hope you don’t mind if I leave early. I have a meeting to go to, unfortunately.” Roman stood up, empty bowl in one hand. He looked apologetic. “I’ll be back later tonight,” he promised. And he left.

With Roman gone, a little of the tension Logan felt was lifted. The college student shifted, setting his half-finished bowl of spaghetti on his lap. He looked over at the small being before him, the impossibly small person. He was still eating, his actions guarded as always.

“We’ll have to get some more suitable dishware soon,” Logan commented when Patton was almost done eating, trying to be conversational and get rid of the awkwardness from earlier. Patton had his fork, yes, but they only had so many bottlecaps. And other forms of dishware would be easier to clean than something with so many grooves.

…

Patton glanced up when the human spoke, his fork pausing halfway between the bottlecap and his mouth. Logan looked thoughtful.

“Perhaps Roman and I could purchase some **doll** furniture tomorrow.”

Patton dropped his fork. It landed at the side of the bottlecap with a quiet _tink_ that Patton barely heard.

“—tton?” Logan’s voice said above him.

Patton’s gaze very slowly rose to Logan’s face. He could feel his heart thudding, pounding like a frantic drum in his chest.

….

Logan jolted in alarm as the tiny person suddenly shot to his feet and darted away from him, his gait unsteady but hurried.

Except… there was nowhere to run. Patton was still on top of a table. “Where are you—?”

Logan got up quickly. Patton had staggered to the other side of the table; but trapped and clearly without a plan, he turned back to hide behind a stack of books that sat near the cage.

Logan took a split-second pause before he slowly lowered himself to be eye-level with the stack of books. “Patton?” he called very softly. “Did I do something wrong?”

There was a long silence. Patton stayed hidden. Logan didn’t move, knowing he needed a gentler touch.

“Please—I want to help, but I don’t know how I have upset you. If you tell me, I’ll know not to do it again.”

“I’m not a doll!” Patton suddenly cried out, still hidden.

“I know that,” Logan said, baffled. “Why would I believe you to be one?”

“I—I’m not a d-doll, I’m a—I’m a _person_.”

“No one here believes you to be a doll,” Logan affirmed calmly, although his mind was racing. He didn’t like the implications that this development had for what Patton might have been through before they found him. Of he and his roommate, Logan was the less creative, but his imagination was quickly supplying ideas of what truly traumatic experiences could have caused such a knee-jerk reaction, such terror, at the mere idea of being seen as a doll.

But what had set Patton off? Logan thought about what had happened right before the “mouse-man” took off. He’d only been talking about potential dishware for Patton.

…About potentially using _doll furniture_ for it.

Ah.

“My apologies, Patton,” the college student said, and he truly was apologetic. “It was not my intention to upset you. You can stay hidden if you so desire. I won’t force you to come out. However, you still have more food over here if you want it. It is important for you to maintain your caloric intake, especially during your recovery.”

There was still no sign that the tiny person was going to come out any time soon.

Logan wasn’t sure what to do here. Part of him wanted to leave, let Patton come out and eat on his own while he was gone, but in his current emotional state Logan couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t try another escape attempt. Especially while as panicked as he was, such an attempt could end very badly for Patton.

“Patton,” Logan said softly, trying again. “I would never treat you as a doll. Neither would Roman. We know that you are an intelligent, sentient being and would not wish you to be otherwise. You are free to be yourself, I _swear_.”

Logan could see Patton’s fingertips, curled around the edge of one of the books. He decided to wait.

After a few minutes, Patton reemerged, still more than half-hidden by the books, but visible now.

Logan glanced at him, but didn’t hold eye contact, as he knew that that might come across as intimidating. He just continued to wait hopefully.

“You—you’re really not going to make me… make me be a doll?”

“I promise.”

“But… but you still won’t let me go.”

Logan sighed. “The only reason we are keeping you here is because you are not well enough to be alone. As soon as you are well enough, you may leave. Roman and I are doing all we can to make you as comfortable as possible. If you have any requests, all you have to do is ask. If we are doing something wrong, inadvertently making you uncomfortable in some way, all you have to do is let us know.”

There was a long silence after Logan finished speaking. Then Patton closed his eyes tightly for a second, as if steeling himself; and despite how much he was trembling, he deliberately approached the human. He settled himself by his food again, only marginally further from Logan than he had been before.

Logan couldn’t keep the relief from his face as he and Patton resumed their meal.

…

“I request that you return my notebook,” Logan said as soon as Roman walked through the door.

Roman shot him a glare, but he seemed too tired to argue, so he just took the notebook out of his jacket pocket and threw it at Logan, who barely managed to catch it.

“I’m going to take a nap.”

“Roman, wait,” Logan said as Roman started to walk away. “Would you at least read what I have written before you judge me so harshly?”

“I already did,” Roman said pointedly, facing away from him. “You know that.”

“All of it?”

“What do you mean, all of it?”

Logan opened his notebook, taking a pen out of his pocket. He flipped to the page he wanted, and he marked something down in bold letters. Then, he flipped through the rest of the pages, exaggerating how loudly he turned each one, knowing Roman could hear him doing so. Roman turned around. He held out his hand, his expression hard.

Logan handed it over and watched as Roman leafed through it, scanning over each page.

“I was never going to publish anything,” Logan said quietly. “You do know that, correct? I assure you, although I may have been excited at the discovery of Patton at first in a more purely scientific sense, over the past few days, as I learned more about him and realized that he contains a sentience on par with that of ourselves, my concern has grown more and more to be solely for his well-being. The other notes and observations I recorded will never be given to others, and I will never treat him as anything other than a person.”

…

Roman read through the notebook, his eyebrows drawn together. After the page Roman had seen with the sketch, measurements, and physiological observations, were various additional pages labeled things like ‘Diet’ (he noted the underlined phrase ‘very fond of cheese’), ‘Health’ (here were noted Patton’s injuries, symptoms that Logan had noticed, and how they were improving), and ‘Topics and Behaviors to Avoid’. Roman stopped at that last one. Logan had listed, in neat bullet points, things that might make Patton uncomfortable or scared. The list included ‘grabbing’, ‘yelling or loud speech’, ‘prolonged eye contact’, as well as numerous other points. At the end, in ink that had barely dried, was a single word in capitalized, bolded letters: ‘ ** _DOLLS_** _’._

Roman looked up to see Logan watching him in silence. He handed back the notebook.

“Okay. So maybe you haven’t been treating him like a lab rat,” he relented. “But why write ‘dolls’? Could you explain that to me?”

Logan glanced towards the other room, as if worried that Patton might have overheard their whispered argument.

“Certainly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked this update!  
> For the comments: What's your favorite season?


	23. Understanding

Logan led the way to his bedroom, Roman at his side. He closed the door behind them with a quiet _click_ , then gestured at his bed. Roman sat down there, and Logan took the desk chair. Logan cleared his throat.

“I believe that I may have figured out what happened to Patton before we found him. Or, at least, an important part of the story.”

“You weren’t interrogating him, were you?” Roman’s voice didn’t hold the same bite as before, but Logan still frowned at the question.

“I was not,” he insisted. “Although… I must admit that the way I found out was not the way I would have chosen.”

Roman brushed a hand through his hair. “What happened?”

“He and I were eating together, after you left, and I mentioned—,” Logan broke off to sigh, “—that _doll furniture_ might be more suitable to his needs than using bottlecaps, and he had a rather negative reaction to it.”

“Is he…?”

“He is okay now. I managed to calm him, and we finished our meal without further incident.”

Roman said nothing, but he gave a single nod, and Logan continued.

“I believe that he may have been held prisoner by someone who forced him to behave as if he were a doll. It would explain the clothes, as well as the bruises on his torso, and the likely malnutrition.”

“What does being a doll have to do with malnutrition?”

“Dolls do not have to be fed. Additionally, if his captor were, perhaps, a child, that captor would have less of an understanding of how to properly care for a living being. Hence, the malnutrition and the injuries. It makes sense, Roman.”

Roman put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, releasing a heavy breath. “You’re telling me you think a _kid_ did that to him?”

“I believe that it is entirely possible.”

Roman paused, then shook his head and covered his face with his hands.

…

After his and Logan’s talk, Roman retreated to his room, feeling rather distracted. While he had known that Patton had been through some things—awful things—the idea that a child might have been the perpetrator was almost unthinkable.

He spent the entirety of his ‘nap’ staring at the wall, lost in thought.

…

Patton looked up when he heard and felt footsteps approaching, the dull vibrations growing stronger as they neared. They paused, and then one of the humans was knocking softly on the wall. Roman stuck his head around the corner a second later. Patton couldn’t help but jump, even though he had been expecting it.

“Hey, Pat,” he said with a smile. “How are you doing?”

Patton shrugged. Roman seemed to take his response as permission to enter the room. He walked in and sat in his chair—neither he nor Logan had brought them back into the kitchen today, which made Patton think that them deciding to sit with him would continue to be a regular occurrence.

There was something in Roman’s eyes when he looked at Patton, like he was sad, but the look was gone as soon as he noticed it.

“Would you mind if we changed your bandages? You can do everything, again—we won’t touch you. Logan just wants to check on your hands.”

Patton hesitated. He would rather not, but he probably didn’t have much of a choice. It was inevitable: even if Patton said no, they would just insist on changing his bandages later. So, all he did was shrug in a reluctantly agreeable sort of way.

“It’ll be quick, I promise,” Roman said softly before beckoning the other human in. Patton looked away. He disliked thinking about their previous interaction, about how he had completely lost it in front of him— _again_.

“Good evening,” Logan said. He had supplies in his hand, which he set down carefully on the table before Patton. Patton didn’t respond, which didn’t seem to surprise him, so he continued, “I hope you are doing well. Would you mind unwrapping your palms?”

Patton’s gaze darted up to look at Logan, then quickly away. He slowly started unwrapping the bandages around his hands. They came away much more easily than they had the last time they changed the bandages. The cuts had yet to heal completely, but they were scabbed over, and no longer hurt unless Patton put pressure on them.

Logan leaned slightly closer, squinted, then pulled a small black object out of his pocket. “This is a hand lens,” he explained. “It will allow me to see your hands without coming as close to you as otherwise necessary. May I use it?”

Patton stared, not understanding.

“He’s just going to hold it over your hand,” Roman said. “It’s a glorified piece of glass that he’s going to look through.”

Oh. That didn’t sound _too_ bad. And if it meant that the human wouldn’t be looming over right above him…. Patton hesitantly nodded. Logan brought the object closer and held it over his hands as Roman had described. Logan looked down at the round bit of glass in its center, and when Patton followed his gaze, he was startled to see that it made his hand appear many, many times greater in size than it actually was. Logan inspected his hands for a moment before nodding as if satisfied. He took the hand lens away again.

“Is the cut on your back still healing well?” Logan asked. “Would you find it beneficial to rebandage it?”

Patton quickly shook his head, very much not wanting to turn his back on the humans. The older wound didn’t need a bandage, although Patton probably still would have refused if it did. Logan didn’t press him.

“In that case, you may go ahead and replace these bandages,” Logan said. “Your hands are healing nicely. If you continue to be careful with them, they should be good as new in no time.”

Patton felt a sense of relief go through him, and he reached for the bandages. He managed to wrap each palm one-handed. It was faster this time, since it was easier to move his fingers.

“Alright, then,” Logan said. He reached forward towards the remaining supplies. Patton scooted back a half-inch as Logan grabbed them and then got up to take the supplies elsewhere in the building. Roman, still seated, turned to smile at Patton. The sad look flashed in his eyes again.

“Would you like to watch some more cartoons with me?” he asked. “I’ll keep the volume low.”

Patton blinked up at him for a minute, debating, but he really did want to watch more. He hesitantly nodded.

Roman looked pleased. He got up and started messing around with the television again, and within minutes, the same show as the day before was playing. Patton settled in to watch.

After a while, Patton noticed that the human seemed somewhat agitated. He kept shifting, tapping his fingers, messing with his hair. His attention moved from the television to Roman, wondering what was wrong. As he watched, Roman let out a sigh, paused the cartoon, and turned around. Patton looked away, not wanting to keep eye contact, but he managed not to flinch.

“Hey, Patton?”

The little messed with a stray thread on one of his blankets.

“I, um, I just wanted to say that… I don’t know what you’ve been through, I don’t know what happened; but… I know that it was bad. And I wanted to say I’m sorry… I’m sorry that it happened to you. And I know me saying it means nothing, but I—but I hope that one day you know that you’re safe now. That we care about you… and we will even after you leave.”

Patton slowly looked up, towards Roman. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Roman smiled sadly at him, turned around, and unpaused the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: Which is better, daytime or nighttime?


	24. Time Goes By

As the next several days passed, Patton couldn’t help but grow more used to the humans.

He was still stuck on top of the table, but they hadn’t trapped him in the cage since they’d first let him come out. He did sometimes go in there, but never for very long, and he certainly didn’t want to have to stay trapped inside. Thankfully, though, Logan and Roman seemed to have decided that they weren’t going to trap him again, at least not until he was well. He was being treated quite kindly, in fact. Patton still had all of the blankets, the pillow, and the colored pencils that Roman had given him. And just the day before, he’d been given more paper to draw on. The humans were also giving him plenty of food to eat and water to drink. They were still giving him warm meals that were probably the tastiest meals Patton had ever had, even including before his imprisonment with Marissa. He would have been happy with anything besides the stale crumbs he had been used to before.

Watching television with Roman had also become a regular activity. Logan had joined them yesterday, claiming he enjoyed the movie they were watching. He had asked, first, which Patton still found confusing. He had agreed, still a little timid, but he couldn’t see a reason to refuse. He knew they were trying to gain his trust; he knew that if Virgil was right that they were trying to trick him into being comfortable, so there probably wouldn’t have been any repercussions either way. Besides, it wasn’t that much different to just having Roman there. If anything, this ensured that Patton knew where both humans were while he watched the show. Logan had mentioned possibly joining them again, clearly looking to see Patton’s reaction at the suggestion. Patton hadn’t given him much of one, but he’d apparently been satisfied with that.

They watched a lot of shows that Patton thought were similar to the sort of things that Marissa had liked to watch. There were a couple of them that Patton thought he may have actually seen before—although he had never felt relaxed enough to pay much attention at the time. He found that he enjoyed watching television much more when he could breathe properly and didn’t feel like he could be scooped up in a bruising grip at any second.

Some of what they watched were cartoons, but others were something that Roman called “Disney”. Patton wasn’t sure what that meant, but he didn’t feel comfortable asking. He got the feeling that Roman might freak out if he did.

One thing he _had_ finally gotten up the courage to ask, on one of the occasions when they prompted him to see if there was anything he wanted, was that the humans not come in while he was asleep. He’d been so nervous to ask that he’d had to start over about five times before he could get the request out.

“Oh,” Logan had said, finally understanding him well enough to figure out what he wanted. “Of course. Would you like for me to knock to wake you up instead?”

Patton had nodded, lightheaded with relief.

“I do have a question, for clarification—in the mornings, would you like for me to keep bringing you your breakfast, or would it be better to have Roman bring it to you so that you may ‘sleep in’ longer?”

Patton held up one shaky finger.

“The first option?” At Patton’s nod, Logan had smiled politely. “Certainly.”

Meanwhile, Patton could feel himself steadily improving: he didn’t spend so much time sleeping, he could finish more of his food, and he felt stronger than he had in a long time. He remembered what Virgil had said, though, and tried not to make his progress too obvious. Patton had already spent a week with these humans, and he knew that if they were planning anything bad, his luck would probably not hold out much longer. Hopefully, Virgil would come back for him soon, before the humans noticed his progress, or before they got bored of waiting and did whatever they wanted anyway. (Of course, this was assuming they actually were planning anything. Although he might deny it, Patton was starting to have doubts that these humans really meant him any ill).

There was one problem, though: Patton hadn’t seen any sign of Virgil in the past few days, not since the night when Patton had had his headache and Virgil had sewn part of his new outfit for him. Patton tried not to be, but he was worried about the kiddo. He knew that Virgil was probably just being held up because of his brother—Virgil had made it clear that he did not want Emile to know about him leaving the walls—and that everything was probably fine. Patton didn’t want to seem needy, either: Virgil shouldn’t feel forced to visit him. But, regardless of all that, he was concerned. It had been four nights now since he had last seen the other little. Patton knew that that the regular life of someone like them could be hard at times, especially so when injured, even if he hadn’t lived that way himself in some time.

He hoped Virgil came back soon, and not even so that he could finally be free. He just wanted to know that Virgil was okay.

Patton thought about all of this, staring up at the ceiling of the humans’ apartment. After a while, he rolled over in his blankets, adjusting the pillow under his head. It was very early in the morning, and even Logan wasn’t awake yet. He could hear some movement in the apartment overhead—not too loud, just enough that he could hear it—and the quiet rumble of the first few cars outside. He let the sounds lull him back to sleep.

…

Virgil sat beside the blanket nest in his and his brother’s house, sponging a damp rag across his brother’s forehead. He had been sick the past few days—probably, Virgil thought, because he’d been overworking himself so much. Virgil wished he had some medicine to give him, but he wouldn’t know what to take, let alone know the dosage or how to get it. Virgil didn’t know the first thing about human medicine. Emile wouldn’t have let him go, anyway.

 As he lifted the cloth away, Emile opened his eyes. Virgil noticed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, setting the rag to the side.

“Put it back?” Emile asked, his voice a croak.

“Oh—yeah, sure; you got it.” Virgil placed the rag on his brother’s forehead, smoothing back his hair. “But don’t avoid my question: how are you?”

“I wasn’t avoiding it,” Emile protested softly. He swallowed, clearly having some difficulty with his sore throat. “I’m not great,” he admitted.

“Any better than yesterday?” Emile nodded at that.

“I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“Maybe. But you’re still not going anywhere tomorrow.”

Emile just sighed. He might have argued if he weren’t so tired.

“Your fever’s gone down,” Virgil told him. He shifted how he sat at his brother’s side, his leg cramping a bit from how long he’d been sitting here. “And you look a lot better than yesterday.” Trying to make a joke, he added, “At least you don’t look like a zombie anymore.”

“I was—,” he broke off to cough— "doing my best Moonscar Island impression.”

Virgil blinked uncomprehendingly.

“You know… _Scooby Doo on Zombie Island_?”

“Are those real words?”

Emile sighed. “You really need to come watch cartoons with me sometime.”

Virgil stretched. “That involves leaving the walls,” he pointed out.

“…Maybe I can make an exception. I told you about those overlooks I made, on shelves and things, so I can see the television?”

He had indeed told Virgil about those. He used one of them sometimes to keep an eye on Patton, after all.

“They’re up high—,” he coughed again— “and it’s easy to stay hidden. Even if they did see us, they wouldn’t be able to get to us before we were long gone.”

Virgil knew this, but he was surprised at Emile’s words. Normally Emile stood firm on not letting Virgil go out, no matter the circumstances. Virgil didn’t actually obey, of course; but Emile didn’t know that. He put a hand to Emile’s cheek, feeling for his temperature with a frown. “You shouldn’t be talking so much,” he finally said. “You’re hurting your throat.”

Emile shrugged, his eyes half-lidded.

“Just go back to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

…

Roman sat at his desk that afternoon, inspecting the box seated in front of him. He _finally_ had a chance to fix it—okay, maybe he could have fixed it instead of watching so much time drawing or watching television with Patton, but that was important bonding time! He was getting around to it now, at least.

He was still trying to figure out what exactly had happened to it. The seam on one side of the box had been popped out, but there was no sign that anything had hit the box. It wasn’t as if something on the inside could have popped it out. Roman chuckled slightly at the idea of a bunch of fabric scraps trying to escape the cardboard container.

He leaned down and looked closely at the busted seam itself. He poked it, testing how easy it would be to put back into place. It moved fairly easily, but he paused, frowning. Were those scratches? It looked like something had been scratching at the box. Could something have pulled the seam open? But what? And why? There was no food in the box, just pieces of fabric, buttons, bits of string. Most of the scraps in this box were pieces that were too small to be of much use, but still too big for him to feel okay with just throwing away. That was why so much time had passed between when Roman had last needed the scraps, and when Patton had come along. Except for the occasional small piece needed for art or detail work on a costume, the scraps would really only be useful to someone….

Wait.

Roman poked at the seam again. He thought about the missing pieces he had noticed. He hadn’t been able to find them anywhere, and a mouse or any other household pest wouldn’t have wanted them. They certainly wouldn’t have bothered to break the seam of a box for them.

But… someone like Patton might.

Patton had to have gotten the pieces for his original outfit, and all the ones he had had before, from _somewhere_. And Logan had mentioned that as unlikely as Patton’s sheer existence was, it was equally as unlikely that he would be a single anomaly in the world. Meaning there were probably other mouse-men out there.

Maybe even here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: who's your favorite side?


	25. Virgil's Return

As the afternoon wore into the evening, Virgil was relieved to see that Emile seemed to be continuing to improve. His throat was still sore, and he was clearly still tired, but he wasn’t nearly as dizzy, and his fever had gone down. Virgil wished he knew how to help Emile get better faster, but he was glad for the improvements either way.

Virgil looked through their things, trying to decide what would be best to bring Emile for dinner. Their food supply was running very low without Emile’s supply runs, but it wasn’t quite gone yet. At last he chose a piece of cereal, put it in a bowl, and mashed it up with a bit of water. Emile was having a hard time swallowing, so this would hopefully make it easier.

It had been a distressing past few days. Not that he would ever say it out loud—the thought was too terrifying to voice—but Virgil had feared for a while there that his brother was dying. There had been times that Emile had bordered on delirium, coughing and shivering despite how warm he felt to the touch. There was little that Virgil wouldn’t do to keep that from happening again.

As he walked back into the other room with the bowl, Virgil couldn’t help but think about times that he had put Emile in a similar position. When he’d hurt his foot, and later lost part of his tail, Virgil knew that Emile had been terrified. And while Virgil had already understood the reasons for the extreme overprotectiveness that Emile had shown for him afterwards, he did so better now. Having his brother hurting and not knowing what to do to help was a horrible feeling.

A bit of guilt welled up in Virgil’s chest as he thought about how much he had put Emile through in the past—not to mention how he’d probably feel if he knew not only that Virgil still left the safety of the walls, but how often.

Virgil sighed, lowering himself to sit by Emile, who was propped up on bundled up blankets in their nest. He laid his crutch at his side, where he had left its twin. “Here you go,” he said quietly, handing the bowl and spoon over to his brother, who nodded in thanks.

…

Patton blinked awake. It was dark in the room, still, so why was he awake? It couldn’t have been too long since he’d fallen asleep. He sat up partway with a yawn, propped up on his elbows, and looked around for what had woken him. He got his answer a few seconds later when he saw the shadow at the edge of the table.

“Virgil,” he whispered in surprise, sitting up fully now.

“Hey, Patton.” Virgil sounded tired, he noticed with a frown.

“You okay, kiddo?” he asked. When Virgil only shrugged, he ‘Pat’ted the spot next to him hopefully. Virgil obliged him, coming nearer, and Patton scooted over as he sat down.

“Sorry I haven’t visited.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Patton said. “I’m fine.” He lay back down, his head on one half of his pillow. After a moment, Virgil lay down too, sighing softly. Patton looked at him for a second. “What’s going on?” he finally asked.

“Emile’s been sick. My brother.”

Patton frowned in concern, rolling onto his side. “Is he better now?”

“Mostly. It was a bit… scary, for a while, though. That’s why I haven’t come lately.” Virgil let out a soft laugh, not out of amusement, but pent-up stress. “I didn’t want to leave him for that long… but I didn’t even know what to do, so it’s not like I was of much use.”

“He’s better now,” Patton reminded him. “And I’m sure he’s glad you were there for him.”

“Yeah, but….” Virgil rubbed at one eye. “It’s just been a rough few days. I know it’s stupid, but I’m… I’m scared he’s going to get worse again.” His voice was starting to get shakier and softer the longer he spoke.

“We could talk about something else, if you want,” Patton offered. “Or not talk at all, if you just want to hang out.”

Virgil was silent for a moment. It seemed like he was going to choose the option to just stay there in silence together, but then he too rolled over onto one side, so the two were facing each other.

“How about you?” he asked.

“Me?”

“How are you doing?”

Patton turned to pull one of his blankets up to cover both of them. “I’m just fine, Virgil, like I said.”

“Are you well enough to leave?” Virgil asked after a second. Patton paused, the blanket only partially pulled up. Virgil waited a moment, but he continued when Patton didn’t say anything. “If you’re really doing better, we should go now,” he said.

Patton couldn’t help the small bloom of excitement in his chest at the prospect of finally getting away from humans. But…. He made an uncertain noise in his throat.

Virgil frowned. He looked down over at Patton’s hands, which Patton knew he would be able to tell were still bandaged, even with how dark it was. Patton pulled the blanket up the rest of the way.

“I think I am ready,” he said. And it was true: while he was still kind of weak, while his hands and bruised torso weren’t quite healed yet, he was almost sure that he could get away now, especially with Virgil’s help. “But I don’t know if leaving is the best choice right now.”

Virgil looked baffled. “Why?”

“Your brother. You need to focus on him right now.”

“I can focus on more than one thing. Besides, he’s getting better.”

“But what if he gets worse again?” Patton asked. “Which I doubt he will,” he quickly added, sensing Virgil tense. “But on the off chance… isn’t this a way to find out what to do if that happens? I could talk to the humans, or—or maybe fake his sickness, to figure out what you should do.”

“Patton… you don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he assured gently.

“But I haven’t even done anything to deserve this… you deserve to be free, and you’ve been stuck here so long—I haven’t even come to see you in days! Why would you stay here with _humans_ because of something that _might_ happen?”

Patton waited for Virgil to finish, and he was about to answer when he was interrupted by the latter’s stomach growling. He hesitated, studying his face as best he could in the dark. “Virgil, have you eaten tonight? Or at all today?”

The silence served as his answer. Patton pushed himself up and went over to the food dish that had originally been in the cage—Logan still occasionally refilled it, for if Patton got hungry when the humans weren’t there. Patton picked out a few items: a peanut, some dried fruit, and a sunflower seed. He brought them over to Virgil.

“Take these,” he said, putting them down.

Virgil looked like he was going to refuse, but his stomach growled again before he could. He reluctantly sat up, picked up one of the pieces of dried fruit, and bit into it.

While he ate, Patton spoke. “Kiddo, I really do want to help you. You’ve done your best to help me, and I appreciate that so much. You tried to get me out of here when you first found me, you’ve come to visit—and don’t you feel bad about not doing that recently; family comes first. You even helped sew my outfit.” He paused, admiring the stitching on his new shirt, before looking back up. “You didn’t have to do any of that. Let me do this for you. As soon as Emile is better, you can come get me. Okay?”

“What if something happens to you?” Virgil asked, not looking at him.

Patton thought for a moment, biting his lip. “You know, Virge, I don’t think anything will.”

Virgil looked up sharply at the admission. “You’re starting to trust them, aren’t you?”

Patton shrugged guiltily. “Maybe. I know I shouldn’t, and I am acting sicker than I am, like you asked me to. But I really don’t think anything is going to happen. They’ve been listening to me, so far, on everything.”

“Not everything, clearly. They’re trying to keep you here against your will.”

“They haven’t put me back in the cage since that first night.”

“Only because they think you can’t get off the table.”

“Well… they don’t know that you helped me get down that first time,” Patton pointed out.

Virgil was starting to look exasperated. “Patton—.”

“Can we stop?” he asked, very softly. Virgil broke off immediately. “I know you’re worried about me. But I’m getting out of here very soon, right? As soon as Emile is better. So, it doesn’t matter whether the humans are planning anything or not, does it? I won’t be sticking around to find out.”

Virgil looked at him for a moment. He slowly nodded, and Patton’s shoulders dropped in relief. He didn’t want to argue.

The other little seemed to remember then that he hadn’t finished his food, and he slowly lifted the peanut back up to his mouth. Patton lay back down, and when Virgil was finished eating, he joined him again.

“Sorry,” Virgil sighed, adjusting the blanket. “I just want everyone to be safe.”

“I know,” Patton murmured.

Virgil reached out, seeming hesitant, and put his arm over Patton’s side, like he had done the first time he had come to visit Patton like this. Patton smiled and moved closer, closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: chocolate or vanilla?


	26. Near Miss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Before we get to the chapter, I wanted to say something. I am a college senior in the middle of her last semester pursuing a degree in the sciences. I am taking very advanced classes, trying to finish the undergraduate thesis from hell, working on resolving some personal issues, and attempting to find a job--all at the same time. In short, I am very, very busy, and very, very stressed. I’ve been trying to stick to a weekly posting schedule--every Monday--but as I have said before, that is not always possible. So, I wanted to request that you guys please kindly refrain from criticizing me for having a life. Fanfic is something I write in my free time, which I often simply do not have. I do it because I enjoy it. I don’t get paid for it. I don’t HAVE to write any of this. All complaining about ‘long’ waits does is make me less motivated to write, and more likely to make people wait even longer–which really isn’t fair to the people who aren’t acting entitled. Besides, writing stops being fun when you feel like you have to do it; and consequentially, it can decline a lot in quality. I want to post things I can feel proud of and enjoy creating! Basically, don't be a jerk.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

Virgil lay in the dark, Patton held gently in his arms, his head tucked in so his forehead rested against Virgil’s collarbone. Virgil was pretty sure he was asleep. He hadn’t moved in a while.

Virgil felt a little guilty about their argument—he truly hadn’t meant to upset Patton—but the fact that Patton seemed to be growing complacent made him nervous. Especially so because of Patton’s plan to stick around for a while longer. Littles couldn’t let their guard down around humans. It didn’t matter that this pair had apparently helped Patton; they could turn on him at any moment. Virgil had heard enough stories, and he knew firsthand how dangerous humans could be without even trying. Even if Patton was right about their intentions—and that was a  _big_  if—who was to say that the humans wouldn’t hurt him on accident? They were so huge and clumsy, it wouldn’t take much.

If Patton did get hurt, it would be decidedly Virgil’s fault. And yet, if he made Patton leave and something happened to Emile… that possibility was too petrifying to think about.

A soft sigh caught his attention. Virgil turned his head to look at his friend as best he could, but Patton didn’t seem to have woken up, just shifting in his arms. Adjusting his hold on the other little, Virgil looked forward again at the dark room around them, blinking drowsily. He hoped Patton was having a good dream.

Virgil himself was quite tired. He’d been worrying over Emile for days now, barely sleeping, and he hadn’t eaten much since their supply had really begun to dwindle. Now that Emile was starting to get better and Virgil had a full stomach for the first time in a long time (maybe ever?), that exhaustion was really catching up to him.

He knew that he really should go home and try to get some sleep, but at the moment he felt unmotivated to move. He was tired enough that it seemed like far too much effort. Besides, he didn’t want to disturb Patton. It wasn’t that late at night yet anyway—he still had plenty of time to leave.

…

Patton stirred sleepily. Virgil must not have left yet, since Patton could still feel his arms wrapped securely around him, warm and comforting. Patton hummed and lifted his head slightly, opening his eyes.

Wait… why was it so light in the room?

He looked up, and his gaze fell on the little in front of him. Virgil’s eyes were shut, his face relaxed. He’d fallen asleep. Patton felt a warmth grow in his chest, but it was quickly overshadowed by concern. Judging by the light of the room, it wouldn’t be long until Logan got up. Virgil shouldn’t be here!

“Virgil,” he whispered urgently, bringing his hand up to gently shake his shoulder. He got no response, so he tried again, shaking just a bit harder. Virgil groaned at that, his eyelids squeezing shut before they flickered open.

“Hnn?” he mumbled, sounding confused.

“You fell asleep,” Patton whispered.

Virgil’s dark eyes widened and rushed to sit up, inadvertently pulling the blankets off of Patton in the process. Patton could read the terror in his gaze, and he sat up too, putting his hands on Virgil’s arms.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he whispered quickly. “You still have time. Logan won’t come in without knocking. Okay?” he let Virgil go with an encouraging look.

Virgil got to his feet, wincing as he put too much weight on his bad foot in his haste, and grabbed for his crutches. He hurriedly tied them to his back and scrambled to the corner of the table. He and Patton briefly made eye contact before Virgil disappeared over the edge.

Meanwhile, Patton could hear movement. A door opened and closed, and there was a clink of plates and silverware. It sounded like Logan was moving around the kitchen. He pushed his blankets aside and moved to look over the edge of the table, listening apprehensively as he watched Virgil descend. The other little was climbing down the table leg as fast as he could, but Patton could tell even from up here how frustrated he was at not being able to go faster.

Virgil was about to hop down onto the floor when Logan’s precise knocks echoed through the room, causing both littles to practically jump out of their skin. Virgil started so bad that he fell down the short distance to the floor. Patton winced. He waved frantically for Virgil to go despite the fact that the other little wasn’t looking up at him.

Even if Patton was beginning to suspect that the humans didn’t have bad intentions, the thought of them finding Virgil was undeniably frightening. He wasn’t sure what would happen. What if they decided that Virgil couldn’t be alone? What if they tried to keep him here, to ‘protect’ him, just because of his disability? What if they became angry that Patton hadn’t told them about him? It wasn’t as if Patton was even sure that they weren’t bad humans—he could have been wrong. Were that the case, not only would Virgil then suffer for his mistake, but Patton would lose his only chance to escape.

These thoughts all ran through his head in the second between Logan’s knocking and his quiet call of, “Patton? Are you awake?”

Patton covered his mouth, staying silent, watching Virgil hurry towards the wall. He was almost there, he noted in relief.

“Patton?” Logan called again. “May I come in?”

Patton still remained silent—instead, he watched until Virgil disappeared behind the portion of the window curtain that trailed down to the floor. Only when he was sure he was gone did Patton go back over to his pile of blankets and throw them haphazardly over himself.

“Y-yes,” he finally called out, trying to make it seem like he had just woken up. Apparently, he failed miserably: Logan’s face softened in concern the moment he entered the room and laid eyes on him.

“Is everything alright, Patton?” he asked.

Patton nodded, perhaps a little too quickly, not trusting himself to not stammer even worse than before. Virgil was safe, he had gotten away—perhaps never even in any real danger to begin with—but Patton’s nerves were still on edge.

He thought he saw Logan’s eyes narrow slightly, but before he could be sure, the human was setting a saucer on the table near him. It held some cut up bits of fruit and part of a hardboiled egg.

“My apologies for the egg being cold,” Logan said, as if that were something Patton cared about. “I made them last night, as I am rather short on time this morning. However, before I go—do you need anything? Your well-being is more important than my timeliness.”

Patton shook his head ‘no’, doing his best to seem calm about it.

Logan paused, but he nodded and finally left. As the apartment door clicked shut, Patton released a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: What's your favorite holiday?


	27. Face the Music

Virgil shoved the cut piece of baseboard back into place behind him, closing off the entrance to the tunnel, and was immediately shrouded in near-darkness. Virgil practically threw his crutches to the ground in frustration and collapsed to the floor. He fisted his hands in his hair and pulled, barely stopping himself from ripping it out. “Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_ ” he berated himself in a whisper. How could he do that? He’d fallen asleep! _Outside!_ Just there, for any human to find!

He finally released his hair and scooted a bit further from the tunnel entrance, dragging his crutches after him, before stopping and staring back at the sealed entrance, his back pressed against the wall of the tunnel. Part of him almost expected an enormous hand to yank away the door and come reaching in after him, grabbing, blotting out the light, dragging him away. He knew that was only a paranoid musing, but although he might have been safe now, sealed inside the walls, he didn’t feel like it.  His heart was still racing, and his breath was coming in gasps—definitely not just from the exertion of climbing down that table leg in such a hurry.

He was safe, but… a few more seconds, and he could have been caught. A few more seconds, and he could have lost everything.

“I’m so stupid,” he whispered once more, disgusted with himself.

…

Virgil eventually returned home with his head hung low, shameful as a misbehaving dog facing its master. He quietly crept into his and his brother’s home, not even daring to hope that Emile hadn’t noticed his absence. He had taken as much time as he dared to calm down and smooth his hair back, but he probably still appeared rather frazzled.

He made his way through the main room and into their shared bedroom. Sure enough, as he had expected, Emile looked up at the first quiet tap of his crutches on the floor.

“Morning,” the sick little said. His voice was soft—he couldn’t speak very loudly at the moment without agitating his throat—but he clearly wasn’t happy.

Virgil sort of bobbed his head in a nod. “Morning,” he echoed quietly.

“Mind telling me where you’ve been?”

Virgil sighed and sat down on the floor, setting his crutches at his side. “Sorry,” he said. “I… I went for a walk last night, and I fell asleep. It was stupid of me.” Not technically a lie.

Emile looked at him for a moment, then moved so he was sitting up in the blanket nest. Virgil could see the effort it cost him. “Where’d you go?”

“Just around the second floor. I needed some time to think. I didn’t mean to be gone so long.”

“You didn’t leave the walls, did you?” Emile asked. Before Virgil could answer, his brother jerked slightly, pressing a hand to his mouth to muffle a coughing fit.

Virgil grabbed a nearby cup of water (Emile must have filled it himself) and handed it over. “No, of course not.” That one was definitely a lie. It tasted bitter on his tongue. “I just got a bit restless, so I went and walked around a while.”

“Hm.”

“I stopped for a break, and… I guess I fell asleep.” Virgil rubbed at his face and sighed. “I’m really sorry, Em. I know I prob—I know I freaked you out.”

Emile looked at him for a moment, his eyes searching. “You could say that,” he finally confirmed, sounding drained. “I was about five minutes from going out after you.” He shifted over towards the wall and patted the blankets beside him. “Come on—I can tell you’re still tired.”

Virgil doubted he would get any more sleep after his terrifying awakening that morning, but he obliged. He untied the string he used to secure his crutches from around his torso, set it to the side, and lay down beside his brother. Emile still seemed a little stiff. Virgil supposed he couldn’t blame him—even apart from the lie, Virgil’s carelessness had probably caused quite a deal of stress, which was worse when he was already sick. There were a few long moments of silence before Virgil asked, his voice barely a whisper, “You mad at me?”

“Well,” Emile murmured, “I’m annoyed, I suppose. I’m glad you’re okay. Just—please, don’t do that to me again.”

Virgil guiltily looked away. “I don’t plan to. I’m really sorry,” he sighed. Then, he looked up at Emile and tried to lighten the mood. “Now quit talking, dummy. You’ve gotta be killing your throat.”

Emile smiled, albeit somewhat stiffly. He took another sip of water, then nodded and lay down too.

Emile fell asleep rather quickly. Virgil couldn’t help but wonder about when he’d woken up to find him gone. Had he been sitting here half the night, trying to decide what to do? Debating if it was worth risking collapsing in the maze of tunnels trying to find someone who might well have been fine? (And Virgil had been fine, in fact. He’d been stupid, and he’d nearly been found, but it wasn’t as if he had actually been harmed). Emile could have gone out there, sick, and ended up in even more trouble. Because of him. Because Virgil was an idiot who _fell asleep_ in a _human apartment_.

The worst part of this wasn’t even the fact that Virgil had upset Emile so much with his mistake. No, it was the knowledge that this situation wasn’t even that bad, not compared to what was coming. Emile was upset with Virgil for a mistake, for a one-time accident. So how on Earth was he going to ever forgive Virgil once he finally had to tell Emile that he still left the walls? How hurt would he be knowing how often Virgil had lied to him?

Virgil shifted in the blankets, shoving his face into one of the scraps of fabric. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

…

Roman was regarding his closet pensively when his cell phone rang, interrupting his thoughts with its quiet alarm. He paused and stepped back, grabbing the small device off of his nightstand and answering the call. “Hey, Logan. What’s up?”

“Good morning, Roman. I trust I did not wake you?”

“No, I was up. Is there a reason you’re calling?”

He could hear Logan clearing his throat on the other end of the line. “Of course. I thought you might want to know that Patton was acting rather odd this morning. I doubt it is anything to be concerned over, but I thought that I would tell you anyway so that you could investigate further, should you decide it would be beneficial.”

“…Odd how?” Roman asked, shifting the phone to his other hand as he grabbed a few hangers from his closet and got to work laying out his clothes for the day.

“I got the impression that he may have been hiding something from me. He took an unusually long amount of time to answer me this morning when I requested entrance to the living room, and when he finally did allow me in, he seemed flustered, or perhaps nervous. I must admit my ignorance as to why.”

“Well, that could be pretty much anything,” Roman shrugged, picking out a few more items from his dresser. The reasons someone might not let someone else into their room right away way were more or less infinite.

“That is what I thought as well. I only decided to tell you in case it turned out to be pertinent information.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Roman paused for a second, pursed his lips, and switched one pair of socks for another, which admittedly looked nearly identical to the first. He nodded to himself, satisfied with his outfit choice. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go. Classes and such.”

“Of course. I will speak with you later.”

“Yep. Seeya, nerd.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: do you prefer rain or snow?


	28. Complacence

Roman reached up and quietly knocked on the doorframe leading into the living room. Part of him expected to either receive no reply or to be denied, but he only had to wait a second or two before he heard the little mouse-man give him permission to enter. Roman smiled in relief.

“Hey, Patton,” Roman said, entering the room. “How are you doing this morning?”

The little mouse-man, sitting with his back against the wall of the barely-used cage, shrugged as if to say ‘fine’. Roman smiled at him and glanced around. Nothing looked out of place, and Patton didn’t seem all that nervous now. The only thing Roman did notice that he hadn’t eaten very much of his breakfast.

“Not a fan of hardboiled eggs?” Roman asked, sitting down.

Patton glanced at the plate, then back up towards Roman; but he didn’t meet his eyes. He shrugged. “It’s o-okay.”

“Are you still eating?”

Patton hesitated, then slowly shook his head. Okay, maybe he did seem a bit more nervous now than he had yesterday.

“I can take it from you, then? Unless you want it for later?”

Patton shook his head again and scooted away from the saucer. Roman reached slowly over and picked it up. He made a ‘one moment’ gesture at the mouse-man, then went and put the saucer by the sink. He stood there for a moment, thinking, before heading back into the other room.

“Hey, Pat? Is everything alright?” he asked, trying to do so in as nonthreatening of a tone as possible.

Patton nodded. Too quickly? Roman wasn’t sure.  

“You know that if something’s wrong, you can tell me, right?” he asked.

Patton just stared up at him.

“Maybe it’s nothing, but Logan said you seemed upset this morning. Did something happen?”

Patton shook his head. This time, it was definitely too fast. Roman bit his lip, conflicted. He didn’t want to push him, but what if something was really wrong?

Patton, though, seemed to be debating something himself. Finally, he seemed to make a decision, and sighed. “I-I-I um, I just had a—I had a nightmare,” he stammered out.

Oh. _Oh_. That explained things.

“Sorry to hear that,” Roman said, picking at one of his fingernails unconsciously. “Thank you for telling me. Are you okay?”

Patton nodded, looking down.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head.

“Okay…. That’s fine. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m glad you’re alright.”

Roman had to leave not long after, promising Patton that he and Logan would be back at lunch. On his way downstairs, he texted Logan to tell him what Patton had told him about the nightmare. He wondered what it had been about. Could it have been about him and Logan? That would explain why he hadn’t wanted to see Logan right away this morning, and the nervousness. Based on a reply from his roommate, Logan agreed.

…

Patton felt bad. Lying was wrong, and he regretted doing it; he had just needed to get Roman to stop asking questions. Logan had clearly figured out that something different had happened that morning—Patton had _had_ to say something to divert the humans’ attention. If that meant lying to protect Virgil, he would do it. As much as it made his stomach twist inside.

Patton did have a lot of nightmares; that much was true. However, their frequency and severity went down a lot when Virgil came to see him. They didn’t go away entirely; that was probably too much to ask for, but they were lessened. Significantly so. The night before, he hadn’t had any, in fact. Patton had actually had a pleasant dream, although he couldn’t remember much about it.

Either way, Roman was gone for now. Virgil was surely far away by now, back home hopefully, with his brother. He just hoped this didn’t affect Virgil’s conviction to help Patton. A part of Patton, although he felt guilty for doubting the kiddo, feared that he might decide helping him wasn’t worth the danger. And while Patton still couldn’t help but doubt that the humans had any bad intentions, Virgil was clearly not at all convinced. What if he decided not to help him? He’d be all alone. Patton couldn’t bear that, not again.

Patton took a deep breath. He hoped he was worrying over nothing.

…

Roman and Logan didn’t bring up Patton’s supposed nightmare when they returned for lunch. They didn’t mention that morning at all, in fact. Patton did notice, however, that they seemed to be treating him extra kindly, like they had those first couple of days he was in their apartment. It kind of felt like they were treading on broken glass around him.

Why did they care so much? Was the idea of him having a nightmare so awful to them? He knew they didn’t want him to fear them, but Logan—a very health-conscious person from what Patton could tell—even offered him a chocolate chip with his lunch, as a dessert. It was odd.

(He wasn’t complaining about the chocolate, though).

They seemed to forget about it later in the day, though, for which he was thankful. When the humans came back again in the afternoon, Roman knocked on the doorframe leading into the living room with a clear amount of excitement.

“Yes?” Patton called. Roman came bouncing into the room, and Patton watched him curiously.

“Patton! My dearest Patton, I have a wondrous proposition for you,” he proclaimed.

Patton blinked, bewildered. He felt a little nervous, as always, but he didn’t think there was any danger. He just waited for Roman to continue.

“It just so happens that I have no homework tonight! And therefore… how would you like to watch a movie with me? They’re like cartoons, but even longer! I have some excellent Disney films that everyone simply _must_ experience.”

Patton simply stared for a long moment, but… that didn’t sound so bad. Roman’s excitement had only just begun to falter when he nodded. Roman’s smile brightened again immediately, and he eagerly went over to the television to set up the movie.

“My apologies for his behavior,” Logan said. Patton looked back at him. He had come in while Roman was speaking; and he was now leaning calmly on the doorframe, arms folded. “He gets rather ‘extra’ when excited. The acting class he has undoubtably only exacerbates his eccentric behavior.”

Well, Patton didn’t know what ‘acting class’ was, but he didn’t think that Roman’s excitement was necessarily a bad thing. He was pretty sure, at least. Roman was still speaking quietly—just with more energy, and it wasn’t like he had come too close to Patton or anything; so he wasn’t quite sure why Logan was apologizing. The other human only sounded a little exasperated, though, so Patton figured that whatever he was missing couldn’t be too bad.

Roman himself turned around then and pointed dramatically at Logan, grinning. “You know you love it!”

…

Roman sent Logan on an important quest to make some popcorn while he put the first movie in the player. “I think you’re going to like this one,” he said, turning to smile in Patton’s direction.

Logan came back a couple minutes later with a paper bag in his hands. He reached in and pulled out a couple of pieces, putting them near Patton for him to snack on. They popcorn pieces were comically large compared to their recipient’s size, so Roman figured that the two would last a while. Movie ready and popcorn in hand, the roommates went to the couch, getting comfortable for the film.

“What’s this one called?” Roman heard a quiet voice ask as the title screen came up

“ _The Lion King_ ,” Logan answered promptly, beating Roman to it. “It is a somewhat frivolous, loose adaptation of the Shakespeare play known as _Hamlet_. Have you ever read Shakespeare, Patton?”

“No?” said Patton, sounding confused. Roman highly doubted he had any idea what _Hamlet_ or Shakespeare were. He didn’t even know if Patton could read.

“Perhaps I shall lend you my copy some time, if that is something you would appreciate. Either way, I do believe that you will enjoy this film. The plot of it—.”

Roman cleared his throat before his roommate could go and spoil the whole thing. “Why talk about the movie when we can watch it?”

Logan broke off, then shrugged. “You make a fair point.”

Roman looked towards Patton, who was already chewing on a piece of one of the popcorn kernels. “Ready?” he asked. When Patton nodded, he pressed ‘play’.

…

They watched the entirety of _The Lion King_. Patton really liked it, although he was still sad about what had happened to Mufasa.

“Would you like to watch another?” Logan asked him. Patton slowly nodded.

“Excellent!” said Roman. He got up with a flourish and went to the DVD player. He hovered over their collection of DVD’s for a few seconds before looking back towards Patton. Maybe he shouldn’t just assume that Patton didn’t know any movies. He had, they were pretty sure, lived with a child after all. “Hey, Patton? Do you have any movie requests?”

Patton looked for a long moment like a deer caught in headlights. Roman was about to assure him that he didn’t have to have one, that he was perfectly find with choosing the next movie, when Patton seemed to snap out of it. He glanced away, squirming a little, and mumbled something.

“What was that?”

“Do… do you have _Winnie the Pooh_?” Patton asked.

“Of course, we do! I have a collection of Disney movies that would rival anyone’s.” Roman fished around the cabinet before pulling out the DVD. “Voila!”

“While you set that up, shall I start dinner?” Logan asked, looking at his watch.

“Oooh, we should order a pizza!” Roman suggested. “What do you guys think? Do you like pizza, Pat?”

Logan had just sighed, but from the mouse-man, there came only an awkward silence. Roman blinked and turned around. Wait… had Patton not had pizza before?

“N-no,” the mouse-man said nervously. Only then did Roman realize he’d spoken aloud.

“Well, that has to be remedied,” he said, hoping his tone would reassure Patton that he had no need to be nervous. “Logan? I’m afraid it’s no longer optional. We’re having pizza.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but he was already pulling out his cell phone. “Alright, then.”

…

As Patton had feared, Virgil did not return that night.

When he awoke the next morning, he looked somewhat forlornly at the foil-wrapped piece of pizza that he had saved for his friend, having claimed to the humans that he wanted some in case he got hungry again during the night. Roman had just seeming pleased that Patton liked the pizza so much.

And he had! That was why he wanted to give Virgil some!

But Virgil didn’t come.

…

Virgil didn’t return the next night, either.

Or the next.

On the fourth night since Virgil’s last visit, Patton didn’t even look for him. He knew that he wasn’t coming. Instead, that night he found himself just lying curled up in bed, trying not to lament the loss of his friend too badly. Virgil had to look out for himself and his family first, right? Patton was probably being too sensitive. He’d only known Virgil for about a week, anyway. Only a week! That was nothing. He’d gotten attached too fast, and even aside from that, it wasn’t fair to put all his hopes into a person like that.

Why he was still with the humans, and not even trying to leave by himself, he couldn’t have said. Maybe he just lacked the motivation to do that alone, let alone all that might come after. The thought of starting over by himself was just… too much.

He’d gotten one flicker of happiness, once glimpse at a possible good life. Now that it was apparently gone, Patton felt like he’d been left stranded, more alone than ever.

Maybe he could just stay here with the humans. Sure, they were humans, and sure, humans were dangerous, but these ones had helped him, right? They fed him, gave him clothes and gifts and personal space. They showed him Disney and even asked him for his input. They didn’t grab, or yell, or seal him in a dark box at night. They didn’t turn him into a pet or an experiment or a _doll_. Patton was almost sure at this point that they didn’t plan to hurt him, even if he wasn’t _really_ free, even if there was still a cage set up on the table behind him at this very moment, and even if he was breaking every rule of his people by staying. Maybe he was naïve, maybe he was a fool, to grow complacent here before even two weeks had passed; but Patton didn’t care much at the moment.

He could get used to this, he supposed. Roman and Logan were decidedly not Marissa. Even if he never got to see Virgil again, or his family, he wouldn’t have to see _her_ either.

Patton sighed, nuzzling his face into his pillow, and hoped he wouldn’t be too sad to sleep.


	29. Nightmares

When Patton finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, even though the sky was already tinged with gray, it was a relief. Or, at least, it should have been—but he didn’t exactly have peaceful dreams. Less than an hour after drifting off, Patton jolted awake from a nightmare—a _bad_ one.

Still with the vestiges of his dream clawing at him, Patton woke up with a cry, desperately kicking and pushing away the blankets that had gotten wrapped around his legs like a vice. _He was in danger; he was trapped; he was going to get hurt; no, no, no!_ The blankets came free at last with a tearing sound, and he scrambled back, away from them, looking around with wild eyes. For those first few seconds he thought of nothing but trying desperately to escape. The feeling of a hand wrapped around him, crushing and unyielding, uncaring and indifferent, hadn’t faded from his mind.

When he finally remembered where he was and what was really happening, Patton stilled, slowly cradled his aching hands to his chest (thankfully, the cuts hadn’t reopened—they just almost had), and curled in on himself slightly. He realized he was very close to the edge of the table and scooted himself further away, still trying to calm himself down.

He wasn’t sure how loudly he had cried out—in fact he was only about 75% sure that he had cried out at all, he’d been so out of his mind for those brief seconds—but he couldn’t hear any movement from within the apartment, so he thought he was safe. He hadn’t woken anyone up.

In any case, Patton was sure now that he wasn’t getting any more sleep that night; so he just sat there, looking blankly down at the table, and waited for dawn.

…

Something was wrong with Patton.

He still wasn’t in the best of health, that Roman had known, but this was different. He’d thought Patton was getting better, emotionally as well as physically. But now, it was clear that something had changed. Something was different. Something was _wrong_.

Roman wished he knew how to help.

He asked Logan about it—he had already noticed, too, of course. His roommate did his best to figure out what was going on, going over the change in Patton’s behavior over the past several days, but all he could offer Roman was the suggestion that they just needed to give him time.

“It is entirely possible that the reality of everything that happened is just now hitting him. Think of it as a delayed reaction. He’s never had the chance to truly feel everything that he went through. Now that he feels safe, or at least comparatively so, perhaps the impact of those experiences finally has the ability to ‘sink in’, as they say.”

Roman supposed that that idea made sense. He didn’t have any better ones. Still, he hated that, should Logan be right, it meant that he couldn’t do anything. There would be no beast to slay, no villain to fight, no wrong to right. Nothing to do but wait and offer their support.

He didn’t want to just accept that he couldn’t do anything. He had to try to help, somehow.

…

“Hey, Patton,” Roman said, knocking on the doorframe. “Can I come in?”

He didn’t get a confirmation—not a surprise—but he didn’t want to just turn around and leave. Patton hadn’t let Logan in this morning either, either having ignored him or still been asleep at the time.

“Pat, please? If you don’t want me to come in, you can say so.”

Roman knocked again, slightly louder than before.

“I’m coming in, okay?” As much as he hated doing that, when Patton had specifically asked that they wait for his permission, Roman had to make sure he was okay. The tiny mouse-man wasn’t even answering at all, and that was worrisome.

Roman stepped into the room, and his eyes went straight to the table. Patton was there, thankfully, so that was one fear abated. But he didn’t exactly look well. The little mouse-man was sitting on the table, only a few inches from the edge. He was looking slightly downwards towards the floor, seeming rather out of it.

Roman waved his hand within Patton’s field of vision, keeping his distance. The little guy blinked, and slowly looked up, apparently noticing Roman for the first time. Roman’s eyes softened. Patton looked exhausted.

“You… good, pal?”

Patton shrugged miserably, looking back down.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” he asked gently, only to be met with silence. Even as he watched, Patton’s head nodded forward and was jerked back up sharply. Roman carefully knelt down so that his face was level with Patton’s, but he kept his distance.

“Did you have another nightmare?” Patton didn’t respond; but when Roman looked behind him, he saw that, while Patton usually just pushed his blankets to the side when he got out of bed, today, his blankets and pillow were flung about all over the place. One of the thinner ones was even torn nearly in half, causing his heart to sink at the sight. It pretty much gave him his answer. Judging by the state of his bedding and Patton himself, the nightmare had been bad enough that he was too frightened to go back to sleep.

“How about this,” he offered gently, causing Patton to raise his head slightly to look towards him. “It’s Sunday, so I don’t have to go to class, and I’m off of work today. Logan’s out doing his Logan things. So… why don’t we just hang out? You can lie down, and I’ll go on the couch, and we can just put on some cartoons. Some we’ve already seen, so if you fall asleep, you won’t miss anything. Does that sound good?” Roman had been planning on working on school stuff today in his room, but he could do that out here. After his offer, there was a long moment where Roman was just waiting for a response.

“Or… I could just leave you alone. Just let you try to sleep in here ‘til lunchtime. Whichever you want. But you really should try to get some sleep.”

The silence stretched on, until finally, Patton mumbled, “The first one?” Roman had to strain to hear him.

…

Roman left for a few minutes, returning with a stack of papers and books. As he settled himself on the couch and started up the cartoon, Patton shuffled back over to his strewn-about blankets and lay down. He only curled up under one or two of the fabric scraps, remembering the constricting feeling from that morning with a small shudder. Part of him was nervous about sleeping near a human; and he would normally rather try to do so without Roman there; but… he just really didn’t want to be alone. Virgil wasn’t there to chase the nightmares away, so he hoped that maybe Roman and the quiet cartoons playing in the background would do the job.

Patton heard the theme song for the cartoon come on, quiet in the background, and the sound of Roman flipping open one of his notebooks. Patton let his eyes close, missing Virgil immensely.

…

The first two-odd episodes played before Roman paused in his work. He stretched, arching his back, and turned to look towards the table where Patton was. The tiny mouse-man was curled up in some of his blankets, apparently fast asleep already. Roman watched him for a few seconds before he sighed and turned back to his book. He resettled himself on the couch and turned the page softly, continuing his assignment.

A few more episodes had played through when Roman thought he heard something. He frowned, wondering where it was coming from. After a second, he turned around, and was startled to see that Patton was shaking, small gasps and squeaks escaping him.

Roman let his school materials fall to the side of the couch and got up, going over to the table.

“Patton, Patton, wake up, little guy,” he whispered. His hand hovered uncertainly over the tabletop, but he didn’t actually touch Patton.

Patton let out a little cry, twisting in the blankets. He was starting to get tangled in them.

“Sunshine, please,” Roman murmured sadly. He swallowed, hoping he wasn’t about to make a huge mistake; and then he reached out and gently tugged at the blankets, getting them unsnarled from around Patton’s legs before he got too entangled in them. He put them aside. Then, hesitating even more markedly, he reached towards Patton again. He couldn’t help but bite his lip as he carefully put the pad of one finger against the mouse-man’s back and very gently stroked it in what he hoped was a soothing fashion. He felt incredibly hyper-aware of how small Patton was at that moment. He started quietly humming a soothing, made-up tune.

For a minute or two, it seemed that it was working. Patton stopped thrashing, the gasps and squeaks fading to small whimpers.

Then his eyes flickered open.

Roman snatched his hand away and moved back, but Patton still gasped audibly when he saw how close the human was to him. He bolted upright and scrambled backwards until he hit the stack of books by the cage, his wide eyes darting around while also looking away from Roman as little as possible.

“Sorry—I just—you started having a bad dream,” Roman justified disjointedly, feeling very dumb. “I was just—I was trying to help.”

Patton continued to stare at Roman for a moment, his chest heaving.

“I—sorry,” he repeated. Roman shifted backwards a bit to give Patton some more space, not making eye contact.

…

Patton swiped at his eyes with his sleeve and took a shuddering breath. He looked up towards Roman, who was sitting on the floor with hunched shoulders, deliberately looking off to Patton’s right.

Patton had decided to give the humans a chance. And as startling—to put it lightly—as it had been to wake up with the human _right there_ , Patton didn’t think that he had been trying to hurt or scare him.

He remembered the moment his dream had begun to shift, when Marissa’s hand had slightly released its hold on his legs, when she had started stroking his back. He remembered feeling alarmed and confused by the change, something very uncharacteristic of the girl; but then the quiet, soothing music had started. Singing, maybe? Humming? If that had been Roman, then… it was nice of the human to try, but even so….

“P-please, don’t—don’t touch me,” Patton choked out.

“Right,” Roman said without looking up, his voice a croak. “I, um, I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry about that.”

There was a long pause, eventually broken when Roman spoke again.

“So, uh… there’s still like an hour and a half until Logan gets back for lunch,” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did you… want to try to go back to sleep? I can leave. You don’t have to worry about me bothering you.”

Patton looked down, hugging himself. In all honesty, he was wide awake now.

Roman didn’t seem to actually expect him to respond. He started to get up, but he stopped when Patton shook his head. Roman had been trying to help, he thought… and it wasn’t like he was going to go back to sleep. So why ask him to leave?

…

“No?” Roman clarified, looking down at the little guy. He felt frozen in place, halfway through getting up to fetch his school materials from the couch.

Patton just shook his head again. Roman knew better than to try to push for an explanation.

“Oh… okay,” was all he said. He slowly stood up and walked over to the couch. He straightened up his papers, which had gotten a bit scattered when he tossed them aside to go to Patton. He wasn’t sure why Patton was letting him stay after scaring him like that, but he hoped it was a good sign.

They went back to watching cartoons. Roman glanced back after a while, but Patton was just leaning against one of the books in the stack and watching the television with a distant look on his face.

Roman looked back to his assignment, but he found that he couldn’t focus on it.

...

Logan returned not long after, carrying in a paper bag.

“Sup, nerd,” Roman called.

“I brought muffins,” Logan replied, long since used to Roman calling him a nerd. He came into the room, pausing to offer Patton a greeting. He made his way over to the couch and showed Roman the bag.

“Oooh!” Roman said, snatching it. He opened it up and looked inside. There were two containers of muffins from a local bakery: one blueberry, one banana nut.

“Not just yet,” Logan scolded as Roman went to open one of the containers. “You’ll spoil your lunch.”

“Then why stick them under my nose?” Roman whined at the injustice.

Logan just picked up the bag and went back into the kitchen. “I thought we agreed you were cooking today?”

Roman groaned, getting up from the couch. Pardon him for having gotten distracted!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: What'd you think of the new video?? :D


	30. Blueberry Muffins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)

“Would you like to try a muffin, Patton?

Patton looked up to see one of the humans—Logan—was addressing him. They were all sitting together, the humans around Patton’s table, eating lunch like usual. Or, the humans were eating lunch. Today, Patton mostly just sat there.

“They are quite satisfactory, I must say,” Logan continued. “We have blueberry and banana nut, if you have a preference between the two.”

Patton looked down at the bottlecap in front of him, which contained his mostly untouched meal. He didn’t really understand why the humans would offer him more food when he didn’t even finish what they had already given him. He supposed that to the humans, it really wasn’t very much food that they were offering him—Patton was rather small—even if Marissa had used to act like he was making outrageous demands. Even so, he wasn’t hungry.

“Just a little piece?” Roman bargained. “They’re warm, and sweet, and they use fresh berries in the blueberry ones.”

Patton looked away, then finally nodded. Roman and Logan both seemed worried, even if only Roman made it obvious.

Roman visibly brightened at his nod, reached into one of the containers on the floor between the two humans, and tore off a piece of one of the muffins. He set that on the table in front of Patton, who waited until Roman had removed his hand before he reached forward and retrieved it. He tore off a small piece of the pastry and put it in his mouth. Roman was right: the muffin was sweet, and while not as warm as it had probably been when Logan had first gotten the baked goods, it wasn’t cold. It was good, even if Patton probably wouldn’t be able to summon the energy to eat all of it.

“Is it to your liking?” Logan asked. Roman leaned forward minutely as if to better hear his answer.

Patton swallowed, glanced furtively up at them both, and nodded in confirmation. Both humans smiled—Roman’s was wide and warm, crinkling the corners of his eyes; while Logan’s was slight and a little uneven, but no less real. Patton took another bite, and picked at the muffin for the rest of the meal. Even if they Roman and Logan were humans, he didn’t want them to worry.

Virgil probably would have approved—anything to draw less attention, Patton thought, his unfocused gaze resting on the table in front of him.

…

Roman came home that afternoon with a small box in hand. He went straight to the living room doorway and knocked. He was pleasantly surprised to hear a soft “okay” in response. He walked in, holding the box aloft.

“Hey, Mighty Mouse!” he greeted. “I got you something.”

The mouse-man looked up at him in confusion.

“It’s a nightlight,” he explained earnestly. He opened up the box and took out the bulb to show him.

Patton looked from Roman, to the nightlight, and back again.

“It’ll make the room a little less dark at night, so you’ll hopefully have fewer nightmares. They’re usually for people who are afraid of the dark, and I figured it might help you, too. Whatcha think? Want to try it?”

Patton glanced back to the nightlight once more, apparently thinking it over, then nodded. Roman smiled and went to plug it in at the outlet closest to the table. Patton watched him with a mild curiosity.

“It won’t turn on until it’s dark out,” he said to explain why the bulb remained unlit when he sat back.

For most of the rest of the afternoon, Roman and Logan both left Patton alone. Roman had asked if he wanted him to stay, but Patton had shaken his head ‘no’. He hoped the little guy was doing okay; and he was often tempted to check in on him; but just in case he was asleep, he refrained from doing so. Instead, he worked on homework, did some laundry, and wrote a few pages of a screenplay he was working on.

Finally, at dinnertime, Roman and Logan went into the living room with the dinner that Logan had cooked for them: a sweet potato and black bean casserole that smelled absolutely divine.

Patton seemed a bit more willing to eat that night than he had at lunchtime, to Roman’s great relief. Logan seemed pleased, too, both by that and by how Patton and his roommate liked his cooking.

Afterwards, Roman proposed that they all watch some TV together. They’d been doing it a lot lately, but Roman didn’t think that was a bad thing.

They watched a couple of Disney movies. Logan only stayed for the first, since he had to be up early the next morning, but Roman thought that Patton enjoyed both. When the second one ended, he turned off the television, stretched, bid Patton good night, and went off to his room.

…

Patton curled up in bed not long after the human had turned in for the night. Though Patton knew it was nighttime, the darkness of the room was lessened by the new nightlight that Roman had installed. He had seemed very eager about his idea on how to potentially reduce Patton’s nightmares, and while it wasn’t exactly the dark that Patton was afraid of, he figured it couldn’t hurt.

Regardless, Patton was having trouble falling asleep. The light didn’t bother him, but he thought that he was just thinking too much, perhaps. After a few hours of just lying there in the semi-darkness, the little sat up, pushing the blankets off to the side. He stood slowly, even though the dizziness that washed over him upon doing so was no longer nearly as severe as it had been before, when he was still with Marissa, or when he was first brought to this apartment. He looked around the table in silence; and on a whim, he made his way over to the stack of books at the side of the cage. It was four books tall, about ten inches total in height.

Patton put his hands on where the cover of the second book in the stack stuck out, and he used it and the unevenness in the cut of the paper as an advantage to make it to the top. There was once a time when Patton could have done it in under ten seconds; but even so, he was proud of the fact that he made it up in a little over a minute.

Once he was at the top, the little lay down on his back, letting his lower legs dangle over the side of the book. He gazed up at the ceiling, at the slight texture of it and the shadows patterned across it. The nightlight gave everything a faint, blue sheen. He closed his eyes and listened to the light rain coming down outside.

…

At nearly 4 AM that night—or morning, perhaps?—Roman walked out into the kitchen, shuffling across the linoleum in his favorite dragon slippers. He was on an important mission for a glass of water. Maybe one of those muffins Logan had bought, too, as long as he was up.

He sat down at the kitchen table a minute later with his snack. He downed most of the glass of water and had just started munching on his muffin when he glanced towards the living room. He couldn’t see the mouse-man from here, or even the table he was on, of course; but his gaze fell on the television, most of which was visible from this angle. The light in its corner was on, green and blinking intermittently. Roman frowned. The light shouldn’t have been lit. The television must not have turned off correctly.

Already hearing Logan’s lecture about energy bills and carbon footprints in his head, Roman quietly got up and padded towards the living room. He paused there, just outside, debating.

Eventually, he decided it wouldn’t be worth waking Patton for this—he’d been so tired that morning, and if he was finally getting some sleep, Roman didn’t want to disturb him. So he walked in, glad his slippers muffled his footsteps, intending to just press a button on the television and promptly leave again.

The moment he stepped into the room, though, he heard a noise: a small clattering sound. He turned instinctively towards it, and his eyes widened.

“Patton?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: Did you pull any funny pranks on April Fools (or have any pulled on you)?


	31. Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the longest chapter yet!

Everything had been going well. Or, at least, it had seemed to be.

Then, suddenly, a shadow—an enormous, impossibly tall shadow—swept into the room.

Patton jumped out of his skin at the unexpected appearance, far too fast for him to duck out of view. He froze where he was, his neck craning back to look at the human towering overhead, unable to move from his spot. The bundle in his arms dropped as his grip slackened, sending its contents tumbling to the floor with a clatter that only distantly registered in his mind. His heart was in his throat, and he swallowed hard. He could feel himself begin to tremble.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now.

The universe didn’t seem to care. The human turned to face him, his attention no doubt attracted by the noise.

“Patton?” Roman’s incredulous voice boomed out.  

…

 _4 hours earlier_.

Patton was still lying atop the stack of books when he thought he heard a soft, tapping sound.

He did nothing for a few moments, just listening to it in mild curiosity. But when it became clear that not only was he not imagining it, but it was also coming from very close by, Patton began to sit up. He propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at the table. Something—no, some _one_ was down there.

“Patton?” he heard a voice hiss. “Are you here?”

No… it couldn’t be.

The little sat up fully, ignoring the dizziness from the sudden movement, staring in disbelief.

“ _Virgil?”_

The figure turned suddenly towards him, and they made eye contact.

It was really him. It was _Virgil_. Even without the light from the new nightlight, there would have been no mistaking his silhouette, crutches and all.

Patton was already looking for the best way down from his perch. He scooted forward, looked for a good foothold. He found one quickly and started his way down. Virgil, too, made his way over, crutches tapping quietly on the wood, and waited at the base of the stack. Patton, however, didn’t take the hand that was offered to help him down the last couple steps, instead getting down on his own. Virgil frowned slightly at the action, his eyebrows drawing together. He lowered his hand.

Then Patton turned to face him; and for a moment, he simply stared at the newcomer.

Virgil’s confused look only intensified when Patton reached out and prodded his shoulder sharply. A little too hard, maybe, but… Patton had to make sure he was real.

“You came back,” he observed after a pause, his voice a breath.

…

“Of course, I did,” Virgil said, softening. “I would’ve come sooner, but I was….” He trailed off, seeing the look on Patton’s face. “Are you okay?”

Patton murmured something incomprehensible.

“What?”

“I thought you left me,” Patton repeated, his whispered voice cracking. “Or—or that something could have ha-hap- _happened_ to you.” He blinked hard, and a tear rolled down his cheek, glittering in the dim light. Virgil silently set his crutches to the side and pulled Patton into a hug. Patton started sinking to the floor, pulling Virgil down with him.

Virgil hugged him tighter as Patton tears kept coming, occasionally letting out a gasp or sob, muffled slightly by how he buried his face in Virgil’s shoulder. Rather alarmed and unsure what to do, Virgil began urgently whispering.

“I’m  sorry, Patton, I’m sorry. It’s okay, I came back… Shh, shhh, you have to try to be quiet, Shh, Patton, the humans are gonna hear us, please… I’m so, so sorry; I didn’t know. I was always going to come back. I’m sorry, I thought you knew that.” Virgil kept whispering over and over. He felt guilty as hell.

They sat there like that for a while, Virgil doing his not-so-great best at trying to comfort Patton. Patton, for his part, tried to be quiet, to calm down; but in the end, he didn’t manage to stop until he had already worn himself out. After that, quiet at last, Patton kept his face buried in Virgil’s shoulder. The occasional hiccup interrupted the silence. Virgil held onto him, trying to be comforting while not using too much pressure.

Finally, Virgil gently extricated himself from Patton’s grip and sat him up, looking him over. The glow of the nightlight caught about half of his face, and Virgil’s already broken heart just about shattered. The shadows around Patton’s eyes had gotten much worse since he had last seen him, and he looked incredibly miserable and tired.

Virgil reached up and brushed a few tears from his friend’s face. Patton sniffled at the gesture.

“I made you a promise,” Virgil said, his voice soft but convicted. “I promised you that I would get you out of here. And I’m going to. Tonight. I’m taking you home with me.”

…

Patton sniffed again, but he tried to smile at Virgil’s promise. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, his throat feeling a little raw. “I don’t know why I overreacted like that. Guess I got a bit silly.” He _had_ told Virgil to stay away if he needed to, after all. He’d been too quick to assume that Virgil would change his mind about helping him just because of one little thing. Patton wouldn’t blame him if he had, but he still should not have jumped to that conclusion.

“It wasn’t silly.” Virgil’s voice was firm.

Virgil helped Patton pack up his things. In reality Virgil was doing most of the work—Patton wasn’t being much help. He just didn’t seem to have the energy for it. Whether this was more out of melancholy or exhaustion, Virgil couldn’t have said.

“You know what?” Virgil sighed after about ten minutes of this. “This can wait a couple hours. You need some sleep.”

Patton stopped, blinking owlishly at him. He made no move to resume his packing.

“Come on.” Virgil gently took him by the wrist—probably reluctant to grab his hand, since it was still bandaged—put his pillow down on the table between them, and guided Patton to lay down. “What’s going on? It’s like you haven’t slept at all since I left.”

A pause.

“Can’t,” Patton mumbled.

“You can’t? Why not?”

“Nightmares….”

Virgil was silent for a long moment, closing his eyes tightly. He understood about nightmares. He had them too, sometimes, thankfully not as often as in the past. He remembered the first night he had spent with Patton, when the other little had started to have a nightmare, but Virgil had managed to calm him down. Clearly, that hadn’t been a one-time occurrence. He sighed in resignation and lay down next to Patton, putting one of the thicker blankets over the two of them. Virgil put his arm around Patton, resting his forehead against his friend’s. _I won’t let you have any nightmares tonight,_ Virgil silently vowed.

“Don’t wanna be alone,” Patton breathed, his eyes already closed.

“You won’t be,” he promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Patton nodded once into the pillow, and he promptly fell asleep.

…

A couple of hours later, around three in the morning—there was no clock in here, but he could tell based on the amount of light coming through the window—Virgil gently nudged Patton’s shoulder. The other little shifted and opened his eyes, blinking drowsily.

“You’re still here,” he mumbled, sounding pleased.

“I am. Are you ready to go?”

Patton nodded, as eagerly as one can while still half-asleep. He rolled over partway, peering up at Virgil in the semi-darkness. “…Why’d you stay away?” he asked.

Virgil sighed, but he figured that he should have expected this conversation to continue. “I’m sorry, Patton. I shouldn’t have been gone that long.” He had been gone less than a week, but he knew that it must have felt much longer to Patton, who was waiting on him to get out of here and all. Way for Virgil to pay him back for volunteering to stay behind.

“’S Emile okay?”

“Yeah, he’s okay. He was pretty worried when I didn’t show up that night”—The one where Virgil, like a complete fool, had fallen asleep outside of the walls—“He told me when I got back that he was about five minutes from coming out after me. And he was still pretty sick then, so….”

“You were worried about him,” Patton surmised.

“Exactly,” Virgil sighed. “I… If he had gotten worse, or hurt, and it was my fault…. I wanted to wait until he was better before I came to get you. I was… I was worried that if I left to come here, he’d think something had happened; and I didn’t—I didn’t want to risk that.”

Patton nodded in understanding, looking away.

“I should have come anyway. At least to tell you what was going on. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d know. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay….” Patton murmured.

“No, it’s really not. Don’t pretend it is. But come on.” Virgil sat up, nudging Patton’s shoulder again. “It’s time to go.”

Patton sat up as Virgil pulled away the blanket, and then he and Virgil finished packing together. Virgil had brought his old backpack, which they filled with food from Patton’s food dish. He’d also brought a pouch for water, which rested against Patton’s hip. Patton tried to convince Virgil that they should bring a box that Roman had given him, but Virgil pointed out that it was probably too heavy for Patton to carry all the way back to where they were going—plus, Virgil wouldn’t have room in his bag for it, and he didn’t have his arms free to carry anything more.

Patton pouted, but he relented. Instead, he just took out some pieces of worn colored pencil graphite from the box, wrapped them and his fork up in a blanket, and tied the bundle together with strips from the blanket he had accidentally torn the day before. Virgil cut off a couple long strips of that same blanket and helped Patton secure the bundle and his pillow to his back.

There was still plenty of food that they couldn’t fit in Virgil’s bag; so the two of them ate as much of that as they comfortably could, not wanting to waste it. Then, at last, it was time to leave.

The two of them started down the table leg, Virgil staying close to the other little’s side so that he could offer any help to Patton that he might need. They went slowly, not rushing this time. They even stopped a couple of times so that Virgil could check in on Patton, making sure that his hands were alright and that he hadn’t grown too dizzy. Even so, the climb went by fairly quickly. Virgil was silently grateful that this table leg had a design carved into it and that the humans had left a light on, giving them more light to see by. Both factors made everything much easier.

They had just about reached the floor when Virgil paused, his ear twitching. “Did you hear something?” he whispered. “A faucet maybe?”

“Probably upstairs,” Patton murmured back. “They get up pretty early.”

Virgil couldn’t help but continue to be wary, but he supposed that that was a reasonable explanation. He didn’t think that the humans in this apartment were the type to be up at this hour.

Even if it was one of the humans who had captured Patton, Patton had mentioned that they always knocked before coming in, so they should have been fine.

Right?

…

Patton stood stock-still, the bundle whose bindings he had been readjusting now lying at his feet, the colored pencil tips scattered about.  He and Roman stared at each other for a long moment, Roman’s mouth opening and closing like a fish. Patton silently prayed that Virgil was out of sight. He’d still been untying his crutches from his back, so he was presumably hiding against the table leg.

Roman finally seemed to find his voice. “What… what are you doing?” he asked haltingly. His gaze went to the supplies at Patton’s feet, and his jaw set.

“You’re leaving?” he asked.

Patton took an involuntary step back. Even though he knew Roman, knew that the past couple of weeks evidenced that Roman would never hurt him—certainly not intentionally—Patton couldn’t help but quail at his feet. To be caught out in the open like this, the gargantuan human towering above…. After having spent so long on a table, always reaching about half the humans’ height, the difference now was jarring. And it was terrifying. It certainly didn’t help that Patton was standing on the floor, with his stuff all packed, clearly in the middle of an escape. It was, as his long-estranged older cousin had once said when they were kids, like he had been caught stuck in a cookie jar… in a cookie factory… with his pants down… and on fire.

Suffice it to say, this would not exactly be the easiest situation to talk his way out of.

…

Roman noticed Patton’s fearful reaction immediately, his brow creasing. He couldn’t help but be hurt by that. Even after everything, Patton still feared him, and was apparently planning to just leave in the middle of the night, without a word.

Roman sighed, regarding the tiny mouse-man sadly. He looked down at the bundle at the little guy’s feet, unsure how to feel about the fact that the fork and the colored pencils he had given him had been packed within it. Something else drew his attention, though: what looked to be a pouch resting on Patton’s hip—it was a little dark in the room to see details, but it was clearly not something that had already been on the table with Patton. So where had it come from?

Trying to figure that out, since Patton would probably not tell him, he scanned the floor around him. His eyes paused on the table leg nearest the little guy, and he frowned. Something looked off about the shadow it cast. It wasn’t smooth, straight lines like it should have been. It looked, for lack of a better word, lumpy. Like something else was pressed against it, distorting the shadow.

…Like something was hidden there.

After a long second of staring at the shadow, Roman tore his gaze away and returned his attention to Patton, who had stiffened noticeably, having apparently realized what he was looking at. Roman felt guilty, but the behavior also more or less confirmed his suspicions.

 _Patton was not the only mouse-man in the room_.

“Are you—are you mad at me?” Patton suddenly asked, seemingly out of nowhere. His voice shook audibly.

Roman was taken aback by the question, his attention momentarily drawn away from his discovery. “No…” he said, his voice almost a whine. “No, of course I’m not mad. I’m just—I’m a bit hurt. You were going to leave without saying good-bye.”

Against his will, Roman’s gaze flicked briefly back to the table leg. He could have sworn that the shape of the shadow had changed, almost imperceptibly. Just as quickly, he looked back to Patton and took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do.

“We meant it, you know. We really were going to let you go. And… I guess if you think you’re ready, then I can’t stop you.”

…

Patton was shocked at Roman’s words. Roman very much could stop Patton if he wanted to, so what was he talking about? Why would he just let him go?

“Do you—was—was it really so bad, though?” Roman seemed unable to help but ask. “Staying with us?”

Patton kept staring in disbelief. He heard a quiet shuffle behind him; presumably, Virgil was shifting where he was pressed against the table leg.

Roman waited a moment before he swallowed, nodding, apparently taking Patton’s stunned silence as a confirmation of his fears.

“Okay, then… I just have a couple more questions, if that’s alright?”

Patton fidgeted nervously, looking down. It seemed like Roman wasn’t going to hurt him, but he didn’t know what _was_ about to happen besides that. He felt like he was pinned down under those huge brown eyes, stuck in the open; and Virgil, unused to being around humans, was probably faring no better.

“Do you still have somewhere to go?”

Patton hesitantly nodded, shifting on his feet.

“And will… will leaving make you happy?”

At the crack in his voice, Patton dared to look up at Roman’s face. He was looking away now, but where Patton had expected to find anger, or annoyance, there truly was only hurt. Almost like he was sad to see Patton go. Like he really didn’t see stopping him as an option.

Roman glanced over at the little as Patton nodded in confirmation.

Roman took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, then…. Okay. Good. Do you, uh, need me to open the door or anything, so you can go? Or directions or something? Some food or water to bring with you? Anything at all?”

Patton shook his head, feeling almost numb with shock. This couldn’t actually be happening, could it?

Roman swallowed. “Okay. Okay, okay.” He brushed a hand through his hair, looking back towards the kitchen. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go tell Logan you said good-bye.” He looked back to Patton one final time. “I wish you all the best, little prince. I’m really glad I got to meet you. Good luck, Pat.” His voice broke on the final syllable.

And he walked right out of the room.

Patton stared after him for a second, then stepped forward before it was too late.

“Wait!”

He heard the human’s shuffling footsteps stop cold.

“Thank you, Roman,” he called out. It was the first time he had called the human by his name.

Roman’s footsteps resumed. He didn’t come back. After about thirty seconds, Patton felt Virgil’s hand on his arm, and then the two of them were moving. They made their way to the doorway hidden in the wall, Patton glancing back the way Roman had gone every few steps. Even after Virgil had sealed the doorway to the humans’ apartment, even after he and Patton had shoved a chunk of drywall in place to block off the opening forever, Patton couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, couldn’t help but think of Roman and Logan even as he walked towards a life where he could finally be away from humans. Where he could finally be free.

…

Roman trudged away from the living room with a heavy heart. He wanted nothing more than for Patton to be happy, but even so, he couldn’t help how he felt about the little mouse-man’s departure.

They never had found out what he was, he reflected, raising a hand and resting his fist against Logan’s door. Now they never would.

He knocked.

Unsurprisingly, Logan didn’t answer. The nerd slept like a rock, Roman thought with a dejected fondness. Roman opened the door, slipping into the room. He walked over and sat down in Logan’s desk chair, looking up at the glowing star stickers on the ceiling for a moment before he reached over to shake Logan’s shoulder.

“Logan, wake up.”

…

Logan groaned at the abrupt awakening, turning over to face away from the intruder. “This had better be important,” he muttered into his pillow.

“It is… Patton’s leaving.”

Logan was immediately wide awake. He sat up sharply, turning to look at Roman, thinking he must have somehow misheard. “What?” He started to get out of bed, but Roman held out a hand to stop him.

“He’s leaving,” he reiterated. “I was getting water, and I heard him. He was already halfway out of the room when I found him. We’re not gonna convince him to stay. Even if we tried, he’d just leave the next time we left him alone, wouldn’t he? And besides… I don’t think he was the only one there.”

“The only one there?” Logan echoed.

“There’s more of them, Logan. Of whatever he is. Like you said there probably would be.” Roman sighed, looking down. “Anyway, I let him go. They’ll help him better than we can, I’m sure.”

Logan was torn, looking towards his bedroom door.

“Don’t,” Roman warned. “It won’t do any good. I’m sure he’s already gone, anyway.”

Logan knew he was probably right. But how was he supposed to just sit here?

“Even so, I need to make sure that he’s sufficiently recovered to—.”

“Logan. Stop.”

Logan sat back in the bed, but he still grabbed at the blankets in agitation. He knew Patton was likely already gone, he knew that; but even as frustratingly emotional as his reasons were for wanting to go out there and stop him, even just briefly, even just to say good-bye, he couldn’t help it. He had grown attached to the creature, to a tiny man who could fit in his hand and who loved cheese and kids’ movies and who threw into question everything that Logan knew to be true about the world.

And he was supposed to just accept that he was gone, now? Just like that? Without even a good-bye?

“He can’t be gone just like that,” Logan said very softly.

“Maybe we’ll see him again someday,” Roman replied hollowly. Neither of them believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: Coffee or tea?


	32. The Journey Home

“Did we really have to block off the doorway?” Patton asked as he and Virgil wove deeper into the tunnels. A human probably would have been completely blind in this space—Patton had heard that their night vision was terrible—and even though Patton could still see well enough to not walk into a wall, it was still _really_ dark. He’d nearly forgotten how dark it always was in the walls. He was putting his trust in Virgil, keeping a couple fingers hooked in the string around his middle to help himself keep up more easily.

“Yes,” Virgil said. “You know that.”

“But….” It was _Roman_. And _Logan_. They’d let him go; why would they come after them now? Wouldn’t they assume that Patton was going as far away as possible?

Virgil stopped, and Patton barely kept himself from bumping into him. “Patton. You know that Roman was just trying to get you to stay, don’t you?” he said, turning around.

Patton frowned. “That’s… not true,” he said slowly. “At least… I don’t think so.”

“What? Why?”

Patton shifted. “Well, why would he let me go if he was trying to get me to stay? All he had to do was….” Patton stopped himself right there with a shudder, not wanting to continue that mental image any further.

“I don’t know, Pat. Humans are weird. It was probably just some weird mind game that failed, thankfully.” He adjusted his grip on one of his crutches. “Can you promise me you won’t go seeing them?”

Patton looked down at his feet.

“Patton?”

“Okay,” he sighed. “I promise.”

…

Patton and Virgil kept going. For the most part, they remained in near complete darkness. Once again, Patton silently thanked the fact that Virgil knew where he was going. Speaking of which….

“Where do you and Emile live?” Patton asked, rubbing at his eye. He wanted to know how far they were going.

“Fourth floor,” Virgil supplied. “In the middle of the building, at the base of the wall. It might take a bit, but we’ll get there.”

“Oh… and where are we now?”

Virgil glanced back, frowning, before looking ahead again. “You don’t know?”

Patton swallowed. “I, um… I wasn’t…. I just woke up in that cage. So, no.”

“Oh… right. Sorry. We’re on the second floor.”

Patton balked slightly. They were going up two whole floors? Patton had had enough trouble with the table leg—and that had been going _down_ wards.

Virgil, clearly sensing Patton’s worry, put his hand on Patton’s back in a comforting fashion. “You’ll be okay. We don’t have to do it all at once. You got away. They don’t know where to find us. There’s no rush.” Virgil rubbed his back gently, then removed his hand.

Patton took a deep breath, nodding. Virgil was right.

They both continued on, but they had only gone a little farther when Virgil came to a stop, turning to look up into the dark. After a moment, he looked back to Patton. “What do you think? Are you good to climb now? Or do you want to take a break?” he asked. “Either’s fine,” he added quickly, before Patton could respond.

Patton, whose head was pounding, and who was perhaps also rather dizzy, fiddled with the bandages on his hands.

“Five minutes?” he asked meekly.

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

They sat down together, Patton pressed against Virgil’s side. Patton reached over and unhooked the water pouch from where it rested against his hip. They each took a couple sips from it before Patton put it back.

“Feeling any better?” Virgil asked after a few minutes. Patton hesitantly nodded, a little worried that Virgil would use this as an invitation to get going again. But Virgil stayed put. After several more minutes of silence, Patton shifted to look up at his friend.

“Is Emile nice?” he asked.

“Yeah, Pat, he’s real nice,” Virgil confirmed softly. “He’s gonna love you.”

Patton closed his eyes for a moment, fighting back a yawn. “I hope so.”

“Well, I guess—I guess you should know that he might be mad. At me. You’ve got nothing to worry about, though—you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sorry,” Patton mumbled.

“It’s my own fault,” Virgil sighed. “Not yours.”

“Still.”

“Don’t worry. Just let me know when you’re ready, yeah? We’re just going partway up to start with.”

…

Patton’s break ended up being considerably longer than the five minutes he’d originally asked for; but to his relief, Virgil didn’t seem bothered by it. Soon enough, though, Patton sat up fully, stretching and mumbling to Virgil that he was ready. Or as ready as he was going to get, at least.

“You sure you’re good?” Virgil asked as he tied his crutches to his back. “It’s okay if you want to wait. I want to get you home in one piece, you know?”

There was no denying the spark of happiness in his chest at the fact that Virgil cared so much, but Patton assured him that he would be fine. Virgil had said that they weren’t going all the way up right away. He could do this. Probably.

They started the climb, using the wooden slats of the wall like a ladder. Virgil didn’t stray far from his side. They ended up going about halfway up before Patton had to stop. They got off and rested on a platform there—a wooden support within the wall.

“Sorry,” Patton mumbled, feeling guilty about how _long_ this was taking.

“It’s okay,” Virgil assured for what was probably the two hundredth time.

“I’m just…” Patton yawned. “I’m tired.” And dizzy… and his head hurt… and his hands were sore.

“Well,” Virgil mused gently, sitting down at Patton’s side, “There’s no reason you can’t take a nap before we go on.”

“Won’t Emile wonder where you are?”

“He’s out. We ran out of food while he was sick. He’s up on the fifth floor getting more. He’ll probably be back well before us, but….”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He left right before I did.”

“You know, Virgil… I don’t really like that you’re lying to him,” Patton couldn’t help but say.

There was a long pause after that. Patton’s heart beat faster as he wondered if he’d gone too far. But Virgil just sighed and shook his head, picking at a seam on his trousers.

“Well… guess you’re in luck, then, because whatever happens, that ends today.”

Patton fiddled with his bandages again.

“How are your hands?” Virgil asked, his attention drawn by the movement.

“They’re pretty handy,” Patton assured.

Virgil snorted. “Okay, yeah, sure, but I actually meant right now. Like, do they hurt?”

“Hm… just a tad. I think I’ll get to keep them.”

“That’s good news,” Virgil admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

“Mhm,” Patton agreed, rubbing at his eye. He lay down on his side, his head pillowed on his arm, not bothering to remove the blanket bundle or pillow from his back. As he drifted off, he could feel Virgil loosening the bindings that held them in place.

…

Patton woke up some time later to find that Virgil had lain down beside him at some point, one arm loosely hooked over his side. He shifted, wondering how long he’d been asleep.

“Feeling better?” a voice murmured.

Patton nodded, reaching out and stretching.

“Want to get going soon?”

“Mhm.”

…

When they finally arrived at Virgil’s and Emile’s home, Patton trailed behind uncertainly. He’d been looking forward to this for weeks—in a broader sense, years, even—but he was also incredibly nervous. Virgil had said that Emile would probably be angry, which Patton didn’t like, even if that anger wouldn’t be directed at him. Plus, what if Virgil was wrong? What if Emile didn’t like him? What if he was turned away again?

Virgil stopped just outside the door to his and Emile’s home, glancing back at Patton, who was several steps behind.

“He’s not back yet,” he said. “We can just wait for him inside.”

Patton nodded agreeably, and the two of them entered the small house. It was pitch black inside, which did not surprise him.

“Hey, Pat? You might want to cover your eyes for a second.”

Patton blinked, but he did as Virgil suggested.

There was the sound of Virgil moving something, of something clicking into place, and then the world burst into light. Patton slowly lowered his hands, squinting in the unexpected brightness. His eyes  adjusted within a few seconds, and he stared in awe.

“You have lights _in_ the walls?” he breathed, looking around. A string of what looked like Christmas lights was strung partway up the wall of the little house, the lights on it illuminating the room. Patton could see where the wire continued on into the next room, too.

“We sure do,” Virgil confirmed, a touch of pride in his voice. “Our uncle used to live in a house with a human who was something called an ‘electrician’. He picked up some things.” Virgil smiled at him. “Let me show you around.”

…

Emile was as relieved as always when his home came into view. The lights were on, which meant that Virgil was home. That was good. He hadn’t been when Emile returned from his first trip—he took two, they were so low on supplies—and Emile was always worried when he got back and his brother wasn’t there.

Emile made his way inside, taking the heavy, overfull bag off of his shoulder and setting it down on the floor with a sigh of relief. He unclipped the water pouch from his leg and set that down too, happy to be free of both of their weight. He was getting his hook and string freed from around his bicep when he heard two quiet, distinctive taps. Virgil’s crutches.

Emile bent to set his hook and rope down on the floor, straightened back up, and turned around. Sure enough, there was Virgil, standing in the doorway that led into their shared bedroom. Emile paused, frowning. Virgil’s eyes were slightly too wide, his stance too stiff. Something was clearly wrong.

“…Virgil? What’s going on?”

…

Virgil swallowed. He’d been so happy to get Patton free, to finally get him home. But now that it was the moment of truth, the moment to come clean to Emile at last, he was undeniably anxious. Face to face with his brother, his words didn’t completely want to cooperate with him. “Um… there’s so-someone here,” he said haltingly. “That I want you to meet.”

Emile’s face went blank, staring at him in surprise.

“He’s a… he’s a friend. I met him a few weeks ago. He’s—he’s had a r-ough time,” Virgil stammered. “He was captured by humans, and… he’s sick. I only got him out this morning.”

Emile stood there for a moment in silence, not reacting. Briefly, Virgil wondered if he’d absorbed any of what he said, but then he spoke. “…He’s sick?”

“Y-yeah. He was with some—some _stupid_ girl who didn’t take care of him, up until—'til a few weeks ago. After that the people in—in 2B had him.”

Emile’s jaw had set, his eyes hardened slightly. Virgil knew that he had realized what this meant, what Virgil had been doing. But because he was Emile, he was focused on the fact that there was someone here who needed help. The anger would come second.

“Where is he?”

Virgil turned to look back the way he’d come, into the bedroom. “Come on out,” he called.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: what’s your Hogwarts house?


	33. A New Home

Emile couldn’t help but stare as a little he didn’t recognize shuffled into view from within the bedroom. He was wearing what were clearly newly sewn clothes; but other than that, he did not look well. His hands were wrapped in bandages; his pale, reddish-brown hair was overgrown and hanging in tangles in his face; and he was very thin and pale. His eyes, rimmed by shadow, darted up towards Emile. He seemed nervous, fidgeting and not quite meeting his eyes. Emile would guess that he was no older than himself or Virgil, but it was hard to tell.

“Hi,” Emile said softly.

“Hi,” the little said.

“Um… what’s your name?” he asked. He really had no idea to handle this situation, taken rather off guard. He felt rather dumbstruck, and it probably showed in his expression.

The new little had shuffled up to Virgil’s side. Virgil linked one arm with his reassuringly.

“Pat—Patton,” he said.

“Patton?” At Patton’s nod, Emile stepped forward. He gave Virgil a fleeting, hard look that said, _‘We’re talking about this,”_ but for now, he was more focused on the newcomer. He turned to him and regarded with a soft look. “I’m Emile. How are you doing, Patton?”

Patton was clearly reassured by Emile’s tone, and some of the tension left his shoulders. “I’m okay,” he said.

Emile looked him up and down. “You look pretty tired,” he commented.

The little shrugged helplessly.

“Well,” Emile said, thinking, “Why don’t you go lie down, while I talk to Virge?”

Patton bit his lip, glancing over at Virgil. Emile got the feeling he knew about Emile’s no-leaving-the-walls rule. But he nodded, the movement small.

“Do you know where the bed is?” Emile asked.

“I showed him,” Virgil answered.

Emile glanced at him again, his mouth thinning. Patton padded back into the bedroom to lie down. The moment he was gone, Emile grabbed Virgil’s arm and all but dragged him out of the house and into the tunnel.

“Emile—calm down, please,” Virgil protested meekly, but this was clearly exactly what he had expected to happen.

“Calm down?” Emile snapped.  He let go of Virgil’s arm outside of the house. “You show up with some guy I don’t know who looks like he’s been dragged through hell, some guy you say you met _weeks ago,_ and you expect—.” He took a deep breath. “Is that where you’ve been going? Is that where you were that night you didn’t come home? Do you know how scared out of my mind I was when that happened? I knew you still left the walls, Virgil, but _come on_. I thought you were more careful than that.”

Virgil recoiled.

“…You _knew?_ ” he echoed, clearly shocked.

Emile’s jaw clenched. “Of course, I knew!” he burst out, barely reining in his volume. He was not usually one to yell, but this had built up over some time. “I’m not a fool, whatever you might think.” He’d just thought—perhaps foolishly, or perhaps he had only _hoped_ —that Virgil just went out occasionally, for short periods of time, to watch television on one of Emile’s hidden perches, to explore hidden places, or to look at books or games to help occupy his mind. Part of the reason Emile’s ban on going outside was so strict in the first place was because he knew that Virgil would never obey it completely. He’d kept him from helping him gather supplies, even from waiting within the walls to help him carry them home, because he knew that such expeditions only invited more danger, and that if Virgil got close enough to help in any way, he’d never let go of arguing that he could go out and actually collect the things himself, too. Emile took a deep breath. “I’d hoped that—I hoped that at least you had the sense to not go too far from home, or to do anything too risky; but clearly, I was wrong! You’ve been hanging out in one apartment—an apartment whose humans _already know about littles_ —for hours on end! Do you have any idea what could have happened? Do you have any idea—?”

“Would you rather I’d just left him there?” Virgil snapped. “Patton? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to waltz him back to that apartment, stuff him in that cage, and leave?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it,” Emile retorted. “You could have been _caught_. I could have _lost you_. All I want is for you to be safe—and you lied to me about something this big, for weeks! That is not okay!”

…

Patton lay in the pile of blankets at the edge of Emile’s and Virgil’s nest-like bed, his eyes screwed shut. Even though Emile and Virgil had left, probably hoping to be out of audible range, he could still hear them arguing. They were far enough away that he couldn’t make out the words; but truthfully, that only made things all the more distressing. He looked down at the blanket he was lying on top of, wondering if it belonged to Virgil, or to Emile. Either way, it didn’t belong to him. The only things in here that belonged to him were the pillow under his head, the clothes on his back, and the colored pencils and fork still wrapped up in the blanket at the bedside. He didn’t belong here. His presence was just making Virgil and Emile fight.

Patton curled in tighter around himself, trying to cover his ears and blot out the argument happening outside.

It seemed the two brothers had a lot to say to each other, for even after the arguing stopped, it was almost an hour before Patton heard them coming back inside. He heard the tap of Virgil’s crutches coming towards the bedroom and quickly closed his eyes, not wanting them to realize that he had been trying to listen.

He felt Virgil sit down heavily at his side.

“Are you tired, too?” a voice whispered. Emile.

“Not really,” Virgil said, his soft voice close. “But… he gets nightmares.”

“Oh.” Patton heard a scuffing noise on the wood, like Emile was shifting on his feet. “Is that why he seemed so tired?”

“Yeah, part of it. I don’t think he’s been sleeping well recently, with the nightmares. But he doesn’t seem to get them as much when I’m around, so….”

“Oh,” Emile said again.

Their voices got softer, so Patton couldn’t make out the last few bits of their conversation. Then he heard one set of footsteps retreating into the other room. He felt Virgil shift at his side, and then heard a rustling sound, like Virgil was messing around with something. Patton opened his eyes halfway to see that Virgil was untying the blanket bundle that he’d left beside the bed. A few seconds passed before Virgil glanced over and noticed that Patton was watching him.

“Oh, hey,” he said quietly.

“Hi,” Patton mumbled back. “You don’t—” he broke off to yawn— “you don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind,” Virgil assured him. “Besides, Emile’s coming in in a minute, and I’m gonna go put away the stuff he brought back.”

Emile was coming back in here? Patton sat up, ignoring how his headache worsened as he did so. A handful of spots danced across his vision, and when they cleared, Patton saw that Virgil was watching him with a concerned expression.

“Patton, it’s fine; you don’t have to get up.”

Patton sat back, but he continued to worry the nearest blanket between his fingers. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Emile came into the room. He’d gotten rid of all his gear, his tan button-up, and his shoes, leaving him in just his pants and a pink and gray t-shirt.

“Hey, Patton,” he said kindly. He glanced at Virgil, who finished unfolding Patton’s blanket and put it over Patton’s legs, leaving the colored pencils and fork that had been wrapped in it off to the side. Once he was done with that, he pushed himself to his feet and left the room. Emile sat down in his place.

“Are you mad at me?” Patton asked before Emile could say anything.

“What? No, of course not.” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Why would I be mad at you?”

Patton hesitated, then asked, “Are you gonna forgive Virgil?”

Emile opened his mouth and closed it again. After a long moment, he asked, “Patton? What’s really wrong?”

Patton made a vague gesture, not sure how to voice his worries and too tired to try. Emile turned more fully towards him, his face serious.

“Look… what’s going on with me and Virge? That has nothing to do with you. You haven’t done anything. Heck, we’ve only just met.” Emile paused to flick some hair out of his face. “But if you really think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot… want to start over?”

Patton searched his face, then slowly nodded. He would very much like that.

Emile put out a hand, smiling. “Hi, I’m Emile.”

Patton hesitantly took his hand in one of his own bandaged ones. “I’m Patton.”

“Do you how do?”

At Patton’s confused look, Emile’s smile widened. “It’s a thing I say. It’s from _Spongebob._ I like cartoons _._ ”

“I like cartoons, too,” Patton admitted quietly.

“You do? That’s great!” Emile released his hand, his eyes eager. Patton tried to smile back, but a throb of pain went through his head and put an end to that.

Emile reached over and adjusted the blanket lying over Patton’s legs. “You can stay here as long as you want. I don’t know you very well yet, but Virgil sure seems to like you, so you must be a pretty good guy.”

Patton ducked his head shyly. Emile got up and moved over to Patton’s other side, to the part of the bed that was still free. “Anyway, I’m kind of tired, so I’m going to take a quick nap, too, if that’s alright with you?” He waited for Patton’s slightly bewildered nod before he lay down, facing away from him. Patton scooted forward to lay back down too, snuggled up in the blankets, and closed his eyes. For a while, he just lay there, taking in the atmosphere of this new home.

Patton could still see the glow of the lights in the room through his closed eyelids, not annoyingly bright, but present all the same. He could feel the soft fabric of the blankets lying over him and the slightly coarser fibers of the ones below him. He could sense the warmth of Emile lying just a short distance away, at his back, close enough that they were almost touching. He could smell the dust and wood and insulation of the walls he was within, but also something warmer and familiar that for a moment he could not place, until he realized that the blankets he was lying on smelled faintly of Virgil. He could hear Emile’s muffled, even breathing and the quiet sounds of Virgil sorting through what they and Emile had brought back from their respective trips. There was music playing somewhere in the building, and beyond that, the distant rumble of cars outside.

For the first time in a long time, Patton felt safe—really, actually _safe_.

…

Emile emerged from the bedroom around an hour later. “He’s still asleep,” he murmured.

Virgil looked over towards him. “That doesn’t surprise me. I think he only got a few hours of sleep last night, and he had a pretty tough time getting here.”

Emile nodded. “I figured. I gave him another blanket. The one he had was kind of thin.” He sat down across the room from Virgil, falling silent. Virgil looked away. He could feel the tension in the room, still present even after they had talked things through.

“I’m going to go sit with him,” Virgil sighed. “Just to make sure he doesn’t have a nightmare.”

“You do that,” Emile murmured.

…

When he awoke, it was dark.

Patton opened his eyes and looked around, noting that someone had put another blanket over him at some point. Something shifted at his back.

“Emile?”

“Nope, just me,” a quiet voice answered. Virgil. “How are you doing?”

Patton sat up, keeping the blankets drawn around him. He took a second to consider. “I’m okay,” he said, and he meant it. “Not tired anymore.” He honestly felt better than he had in a long time. His headache had faded, too, as had his dizziness.

“Well, I hope not,” Virgil commented, sounding faintly amused. Patton drew his eyebrows together.

“What?”

“You were asleep for almost 12 hours,” Virgil informed him.

Patton blinked. “I was?” It felt like he’d only just fallen asleep.

“Yep,” Virgil confirmed. “Emile and I have been taking turns sitting with you.”

Patton let that sink in, glad that the darkness hid the embarrassed flush that rose in his cheeks.

Virgil reached over and put a hand on his arm. “We didn’t mind. I know you sleep better when you’re not alone. Do you want something to eat?”

Patton nodded, pushing the blankets off of him and starting to get up. Virgil got up too, grabbing the crutches he had left by the end of the bed, and the two of them walked into the other room, Patton squinted slightly in the light.

“Hey, Virge, did you want me to—? Oh!” Emile said. “Hi, Patton.” He was sitting down, repairing an over-the-shoulder bag. It looked like he was sewing a new button onto it.

“I was gonna grab him some food,” Virgil explained. He walked over to the other side of the room to do just that. Emile smiled at Patton.

“You’re looking much better,” he said.

Patton nodded. Emile patted the patch of floor next to him, and Patton went to sit there. Emile looked at him thoughtfully.

“Do you want a haircut?” he asked.

Patton tilted his head, wondering if he’d heard correctly.

Emile reached off to the side and picked up something, holding it for Patton to see. It was a small knife fashioned out of a shard of metal with a leather grip. “Your hair’s kind of long, which isn’t bad in itself, but I’m not sure if we can brush out those tangles. I can cut it, if you’d like.”

Patton looked from Emile to the knife and back.

“I can have Virgil do it instead, if it’ll make you more comfortable?” Emile offered. Virgil, who was putting together some plates of food, glanced over.

“No… that’s okay.” Patton shifted. “I’d love a haircut.”

Patton settled himself in front of Emile, who started inspecting his hair more closely.

“Is it okay if I cut it short?” Emile asked. “To get past the knots?”

Patton made an affirmative noise, and Emile started cutting.

Virgil turned back and passed over a couple of plates, each with half of a piece of cereal and some dried fruit. He kept a third for himself. “Not to interrupt, but….”

“You go ahead, just try not to move your head too much,” Emile muttered to Patton, releasing him so he could grab his plate. Patton leaned forward to do just that. He ate while Emile finished cutting his hair, trying to keep his head still.

A short while later, after Patton and Virgil had already finished their food, Virgil passed him a damp rag.

Emile made one final snip of his hair, brushing away what he’d cut off into a small pile on the floor, and then sat back. Patton picked up the damp rag and rubbed at his face with it, then went ahead and did the same with the rest of his head. Virgil took back the rag, then handed him a small mirror.

“Want to see?” he asked with a half-smile.

Patton glanced between the two of them, then held up the mirror, staring into it. He could feel Emile and Virgil watching him for a reaction.

“I’m not sure when the last time I looked in a mirror was,” Patton admitted, feeling like he should explain why he was staring so long. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen his reflection—metal, water, and glass could all show that to him—but those were always muddied and indistinct. He hadn’t seen himself so clearly in a long time.

His face was thin, his skin slightly pink (probably from sunburn when he was at the beach, like on his arms and legs). His reddish-brown hair, looking a bit darker right now due to its dampness, was now cropped short, but he knew how awful it must have looked before, hanging down in snarls. It hadn’t been _really_ long—sometimes Marissa had gotten bored and played ‘dress up’, usually with disastrous results, the most recent of these occasions being a few months before. Patton shuddered at the memory. It was a far cry from Emile’s gentle, methodical trimming.

“Oh, no,” Emile breathed, sounding worried. “Do you not like it?”

Patton shook his head, only realizing then that there were tears in his eyes. “No—no, I do,” he said, trying to blink them back. “I really do.” A couple of the tears fell. Meanies. He brushed them away with his sleeve.

Virgil silently came up and sat to Patton’s left, putting a hand on his arm. Patton didn’t quite know why, but he kept looking back to the mirror. Perhaps because he barely recognized the face staring back at him. Patton kept looking into the mirror, searching. Maybe if he looked hard enough, he’d find who he’d used to be, hidden there somewhere.

“You okay, Pat?” Virgil asked.

Patton looked up, from Virgil to Emile. He set the mirror down in his lap and nodded.

 Maybe it was true that who Patton had used to be before his capture was gone. Maybe he’d never get back who he once was. But he had Virgil now, didn’t he? And Emile. He had a chance to start over. To become someone new, someone who could be more than just a little trying to survive in a very, very large world.

“I’m okay,” he assured, a small smile forming on his face. “I’m okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: What’s your favorite kind of bird?


	34. Roman illustration (chapter 15)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's an illustration I impulsively drew for chapter 15 of this story! It's the scene where Roman is sewing a pillow for Patton.


	35. Virgil Illustration (chapter 27)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More procrastination? It’s just as likely as you think. And so, you get new Infinitesimal illustrations two days in a row! This one isn’t of something that actually happens in the story, but of something that Virgil fears might happen during chapter 27, after he accidentally falls asleep while visiting Patton and barely escapes without being seen.


	36. After

For a long time after Roman had given Logan the news about Patton, the two roommates simply sat there in Logan’s room in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Occasionally the quiet was interrupted by a small cough, by a rustle as one of them shifted. Small movements. Neither made to get up or to try to go back to sleep. Dawn arrived at some point in that heavy silence, dim gray light gradually brightening; and as the light steadily further illuminated the room, the glowing star stickers on Logan’s walls and ceiling fading to their daytime gray-white.

When Logan’s alarm went off, both college students turned to stare at it, as if surprised that something so mundane could still happen. The alarm played through, faded out, and then began again. Only when the third alarm was just beginning did Logan reach over and turn it off.

Roman cleared his throat. “I suppose I should probably go,” he commented, but there was no force behind his words, so his voice came out airy and soft. Thankfully, since the room was otherwise dead silent, Logan heard him anyway. He nodded, but he didn’t move from his spot in his bed, leaning against the headboard.

Roman reluctantly got up from the desk chair, stretching his arms and his back, reaching up towards the star-speckled ceiling. Then he dropped his arms to his sides and stood there for a second or two. Why did it have to be Monday morning? How was he supposed to go to class today? Patton was _gone_ , and they would probably never see him again. This wasn’t just another Monday; it couldn’t be.

Roman reluctantly left the room. He supposed he didn’t have a right to be upset, or at least not as much of one as his roommate did. Heck, Logan hadn’t even gotten to say good-bye.

…

Logan entered the kitchen fifteen minutes later. He was now dressed in his usual smart outfit, complete with a tie, his damp black hair combed back. There was no sense in breaking his morning routine, he reasoned.

Roman was there when he arrived, sitting at the kitchen table, still in his pajamas. He had been looking towards the living room entrance, but he glanced over when Logan walked in.

“Morning,” he said in a low voice.

“Good morning,” Logan echoed automatically. His eyes drifted towards the living room without his will.

Roman followed his gaze. “I guess we should…?”

“Perhaps,” Logan agreed, feeling reluctant himself. He walked towards the other room, hearing a muffled scraping sound as Roman got up from his chair and followed. He can’t help but pause just outside the doorway. Roman, at his back, did the same.

“Come on,” his roommate murmured. He walked past and into the room. Logan took a breath and followed. He knew what he would find, but it was still painful to have it confirmed.

The table where Patton had been staying was empty of its occupant. Patton was long gone.

A part of Logan felt that things should be drastically altered by this fact, but in truth, the table itself was nearly unchanged. The cage stood open, the stack of books to the side, both just the same as before. The fabric scraps were in a pile to the side, a smaller cluster of them serving as what had been Patton’s bed. However, there were a few other changes as well, probably as a direct consequence of the ‘mouse-man’ having departed. The food dish was about three-quarters of the way empty, the water dish completely so. Patton must have either taken their contents with him or had a sizeable meal beforehand. Even so, the majority of the items were still there, including most of his blankets, and other items that Patton had probably either not wanted to bring or had been unable to carry.

Roman silently reached out and picked up the small, decorative box that he had gifted Patton. He dithered briefly before he opened the clasp on it. He sucked in a breath, and Logan glanced over. The colored pencil tips that had been inside were gone, but Patton’s drawings remained in a stack inside. Roman closed the box and held it close to his chest like something precious.

Logan looked around the room, unable to help but wonder where Patton could have gone. His eyes scanned the floor, pausing on corners, furniture, the window sills, anywhere that the five-inch-tall man might have been obscured. He found nothing. “Patton?” he heard himself say aloud. Of course, no one answered him. It was a foolish impulse, calling for him, nothing more. Patton had departed hours ago.

Logan turned back to the table, resigned himself, and began clearing the setup away. He only had so long until he had to leave for class, after all, so if they were going to do this, they would have to be expeditious about it.

Roman brought the extra fabric scraps, including most of Patton’s blankets, back to his room while Logan took care of the bottlecaps. Logan kept the larger of the two on impulse, leaving it on his desk, but he disposed of the other. Roman cleaned out the cage, taking the washcloth and pillowcase that had been folded inside and placing them in a hamper to be washed that afternoon. Logan put the newly cleaned cage on the floor in the corner of the kitchen. He would take it to a thrift store or something after his classes, he decided. For now, he had a spare couple of minutes, so he took the time to wipe down the table top with a furniture polish that smelled of artificial lemon.

When the two young men were done, there was no sign that Patton had ever been there.

The only proof they had of his existence at all, in fact, were Logan’s notebook, Patton’s own drawings, and each other’s assurance that he hadn’t been a hallucination. They had never taken a photo of him.

Just as Logan was leaving, he saw Roman pick up the conch shell that had been sitting on the table by the couch and silently move it to the recently emptied table, taking up some of the yawning emptiness there.

…

The next few days passed in a somber blur. Roman and Logan never spoke of what had happened in that time, but even though his roommate wasn’t exactly someone who was open about his emotions—back when they’d first moved in together, Logan had actually habitually denied having them at all—Roman could tell that he was just as sad as himself.

The absence of the tiny mouse-man seemed to fill the apartment, weighing heavily in the air. For the two roommates, even eating in the kitchen rather than in the living room had been quite strange in those first couple of days. It was almost as if that hadn’t been the norm only a few weeks before.

Roman pretended not to notice the food dish that was often left at the foot of the table, by the wall, presumably just in case Patton ever returned and wanted or needed something to eat. Roman guessed that Logan picked through it every morning to see if anything had been taken. Judging by the fact that Logan had yet to burst into his room in a frenzy, nothing ever had been.

He also sometimes caught Logan sitting in the kitchen, or glimpsed him sitting in his room, just pensively thumbing through the notebook he had used to take notes on the mouse-man. On the fourth day, Roman once even found his roommate pacing the perimeter of the living room,  studying the base of the wall and muttering about the apartment door being shut and something about the air vents. Roman had just stepped back out of the room again, deciding it was probably best to just leave Logan alone.

Roman felt that he couldn’t judge his roommate, especially since Logan had not gotten anything close to a satisfactory good-bye with Patton. Even though Roman had gotten to see him before he left—had even gotten a _thank you_ , for Merlin’s sake—he also missed Patton sorely. He spent many evenings looking through the drawings that Patton had left behind, sitting in bed and sifting through them by the glow of his bedside lamp. He had been tempted to keep his original outfit, too, to be honest, for something else to remember the little guy by; but it was dirty and falling apart; and the thought of how Patton had probably come to have it had only made him even sadder. So, he had ended up throwing it away. The drawings would have to be enough, even if a few scraps of paper couldn’t come close to filling the hole in his heart.

Eventually, though, things started to feel normal again. Their main focus returned to class. Roman’s grades had suffered a bit in those first couple of weeks after Patton left, but he was making up those points now. Soon, his scores went back to their usual low B’s, and he even earned a part in a play at the college. He stopped looking at the drawings so often, stopped feeling the urge to knock before he went into the living room. Logan seemed a bit less closed-off by then, too, even if Roman did always, without fail, continue to find the food dish set up at the base of the table like a shyly hopeful invitation. The nerd even won some nerdy science prize; and Roman was incredibly proud of him, even if it did sound like gibberish when Logan tried to explain to him what exactly it was for. Both students spent many nights in the library, studying. If that were, especially at the beginning, an excuse to keep away from their far-too-empty apartment, would it really have mattered? Their hard work was paying off.

The subject of Patton did come up occasionally—it was less painful to talk about their vanished guest by then—but more in a nostalgic, ‘I hope he’s doing well’ sort of way. Neither of them truly expected that they would ever see him again.

As it turned out, they were wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: Who's your favorite character so far in this fic? How's that match up (or not) with your favorite side?


	37. Anticipation

Patton blinked awake slowly. His vision faded into focus, and he was startled to see thick, black metal bars criss-crossing about a foot above him.

No… it couldn’t be. How was Patton back in a cage? Hadn’t he gotten away? Fear started to twist in his chest as he frantically tried to figure out how he had gotten here.

“Well aren’t you being a lazy-bones, dolly?” a high-pitched, grating voice suddenly sing-songed. It felt like it came from everywhere at once, making even his bones vibrate. Patton’s blood ran cold.

No…. No, no, no, _no!_ Patton sat up fast, almost like he’d been shocked, snapping his head towards the source of the voice. Pale blue, visibly annoyed eyes larger than his entire head met his.

“Marissa,” he whispered, the word as frail as a dead leaf trembling on its branch, about to be blown away in the wind. His eyes were wide with shock as they took in the huge child’s pudgy, pink face. His fingers began to go numb with panic, his legs trembling.

“I want to play,” Marissa announced, spitting slightly on the ‘p’. Her hand shot towards the cage door, the movement almost too fast to see. She grinned, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

Patton jumped up while she was busy unlocking the door and tried to run, to hide, but there was nothing in the cage but himself, and his feet seemed to slide backwards on the slick plastic floor, making his attempts to run slower than a crawl. The door fell open with a _clang;_ and Marissa’s hand snatched him up easily, lifting him off his feet. Patton’s arms were pinned to his sides, his legs hanging uselessly. The grip around him tightened, pushing the air from his lungs and leaving him breathless.

Marissa pulled him out of the cage and dropped him unceremoniously on the table it sat on. Patton staggered to his feet and attempted to run again, slipping on the fabric scraps strewn about on the wood. Marissa casually flicked his back, sending him crashing to the unforgiving tabletop with a small cry. A sharp pain throbbed in his back, and tears pricked in Patton’s eyes. He had only just begun pushing himself back up on shaky arms when Marissa abruptly grabbed at him again, pinching his right arm between her fingertips, the pressure strongest just above his elbow. She slowly lifted up his struggling form, and Patton’s arm quickly began to go numb as he couldn’t help but whine in discomfort. His legs kicked at the air, and Marissa shook him harshly. It was a miracle that his shoulder didn’t dislocate.

“Stop it!” she snapped at him. “I’m playing!”

Patton went limp immediately, hanging awkwardly as dead weight from the one arm Marissa had pinched in her grasp. His heart was pounding, but he knew from experience that if he kept struggling, he could get seriously hurt.

Marissa giggled, apparently pleased by his compliance. She took a step back from the table, then lifted Patton up high, _oh, so high_ , impossibly far from the floor below. He stared down at Marissa’s face with frightened eyes. She grinned, her teeth somehow even sharper than before, like the shark teeth he had seen once in a book.

“W-wait, p-ple-ase,” he gasped desperately, realizing what was about to happen. “Don’t!”

She let go anyway.

…

Patton awoke for real with a jolt and a startled, quickly stifled cry. Disoriented by the dream that still felt so incredibly real, his eyes darted around, desperately trying to figure out where he was. It was a stark contrast to what he had just experienced: It was dark; the cage and Marissa were both gone; and most notably, he was no longer plummeting to his certain death. He  found that he was lying in a nest of blankets and other soft materials, a warmth at his side.

Patton knew then where he was: He was in Virgil’s and Emile’s home, curled up alongside them. He wasn’t with Marissa. He wasn’t with any human at all. He was free. He was safe.

 _I’m safe_ , Patton repeated to himself _. I’m safe._

As the all-consuming terror of his dream faded, Patton slowly felt himself return to his body. One of the blankets had gotten wrapped around him at some point, nearly pinning his left arm to his side. He had also rolled onto his other arm, which had now gone numb beneath him from the elbow down.

Patton forced his left arm free of the blanket, then rolled over onto his back and tried to catch his breath as quietly as possible. Pins and needles pricked through his numb right arm, the feeling gradually returning to it as his heartrate just barely began to slow to its normal pace. It had been a while since he’d had a nightmare that bad. He didn’t think he had had one so vivid and terrifying since before Virgil had rescued him.

The brother lying closer to him was stirring, probably roused due to Patton’s movement and any noise he hadn’t quite managed to silence. Patton had gone to bed first of the three that night, and it was rather dark in the room, so he wasn’t sure which brother it was. He hoped that he hadn’t woken either of them. Virgil had told him that he could always wake him up if this happened, but… Patton just felt so guilty doing that. Virgil and Emile had already done so much for him.

The person lying beside him relaxed again after a moment, his breathing evening out; and Patton released his breath in a quiet, relieved sigh. He stared up into the darkness, his heart still pounding, and hoped that he would eventually fall back asleep.

…

“Hey… did I elbow someone last night?”

“What?” Virgil asked, glancing over at Emile from where he’d been sitting, in the middle of sewing up a hole in his jacket. Patton, who had been sitting nearby untangling a wad of string, stilled. He thought of the part of his dream when Marissa had flicked him. The spot on his back was still a little sore despite the injury having happened in a dream.

“I thought, maybe… I don’t know,” Emile was saying, trailing off uncertainly. He shrugged, glancing between his brother and Patton. “Sorry.”

“I mean, you do it often enough that I wouldn’t be surprised,” Virgil admitted jokingly. “But it wasn’t me.” He glanced towards Patton questioningly.

“Oh—um, maybe,” Patton admitted. “My back, I think? It wasn’t too hard. I barely even woke up. I never would have known if you hadn’t said anything.” He took a long sip of his water, glancing away.

“Oh,” Emile said, sounding relieved. “Okay. Sorry about that, anyway. It was an accident.”

Patton shook his head, setting down his cup and looking up at Emile with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, kiddo; you were asleep. It’s not your fault. I’m fine, promise.”

Virgil glanced between the two of them, then returned to his sewing. One of the lights flickered overhead just as Virgil went to do a stitch, and he pricked his finger with the needle. Virgil sighed, sitting back. “So, are we doing anything today besides mending clothes?” he asked, sticking the tip of his sore finger in his mouth.

“I was actually meaning to talk to you two about that,” Emile said. “I need to go out and get some things.”  He rolled his shoulders and stretched. “It might take a couple days, though .”

“A couple of days?” Virgil echoed. “Where are you going?”

“I need to get some stuff on the upper floors. For repairs and such. We’re running low.”

Virgil removed the finger from his mouth. “Okay. Let me come.”

Emile sighed. “No.”

Patton shifted uncomfortably. The light flickered again.

“Why not?” Virgil said, sounding annoyed now.

“I’m—I’m gonna take a walk,” Patton announced. Virgil and Emile didn’t fight very often; but things were still  kind of tense between them; and it made Patton rather nervous to see, even though he knew by now that they were not going to change their minds about letting him stay.

“Wait, Pat, you don’t have to go,” Virgil said, the annoyance immediately gone from his voice.

“I won’t go far,” Patton promised, already getting to his feet.

Virgil sighed, rubbed his temple, then nodded. “…Okay. Don’t be gone too long, though, yeah?”

Patton made an affirmative noise, grabbed a water pouch from near the door, and left the room as he fastened it around his waist.

…

“Why can’t I go with you?” Virgil asked once Patton was gone, turning back to Emile. “Do you really still think I can’t do it?”

“Virgil, I can’t—”

“You _can_ ,” Virgil interrupted. “I can do it. You know it. I know it. I’ve left the walls before, so many times! Haven’t I proven myself capable? I know you’re still mad that I lied to you, but I can do it! I saved Patton from _humans_. I can steal a few crumbs without being caught. Why do you still treat me like a helpless child?”

“It’s not that I think you can’t do it,” Emile said as calmly as possible.

“Then what is it? Are you still mad about me saving Patton?”

“I’m not mad that you saved Patton, of course not! I’m mad because—I’m mad that you didn’t tell me about him sooner!”

Virgil paused, confused. He hadn’t told Emile about going to see Patton in the time between finding and rescuing him, that was true, but why was this somehow worse than all the other times he had left the walls without Emile’s permission?

“Look, I get that it wasn’t safe—.”

“It’s not that,” Emile snapped. “It’s not just that. It’s…. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I wouldn’t want to help him? Why didn’t you _trust_ me? Did you really think that I would ever leave someone stuck in a cage, that I would be _that selfish?_ ”

“…No,” Virgil said quietly, realization dawning in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say more, but found that he had apparently forgotten how to speak.

“I just… I need some time to think. Okay?”

After a long pause, Virgil all but whispered, “You’ve had two months to think.”

“Have I?” Emile asked. “We’ve been busy trying to get Patton back on his feet—he was so sick when you brought him here, Virge; you know that. And besides that, I’ve had to be collecting supplies for _three_ people now—and don’t you dare use that against me,” he interrupted himself, before Virgil had the chance to say that that was all the more reason for him to go with. Which may or may not have been exactly what he was about to do.

Instead, Virgil sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Patton wouldn’t want to be left alone, anyway, would he?” he reasoned more gently.

Virgil thought for a moment. “I guess not,” he admitted reluctantly. He knew that Patton couldn’t do a trip like that yet, certainly not easily, and it wasn’t fair to ask him to attempt to travel that far. Emile had a point. They couldn’t leave Patton alone here for two days. Not with the nightmares he got when alone. He looked away, then got to his feet, grabbing the crutches that had been laying at his side. “I’m going to go find Patton,” he announced, already on his way out the door.

“Do you want me to wait until you get back before I leave?” Emile called after him. “I have everything mostly ready, but I can wait.”

“No, why bother?” Virgil said, his back to his brother. “Don’t let me interrupt your thinking time.” He did pause in the doorway, though, and look back at Emile. “I am sorry,” he said, his tone softer and gentler than before. “I wasn’t thinking about—When I didn’t tell you about Patton, it wasn’t because I actually thought you’d leave him. I know you would have helped him escape, too. I was just… just scared, I guess. I didn’t realize that it would seem like I thought you’d do that to him. So… I’m sorry for that. Really.”

Emile nodded, not meeting his eyes; and Virgil left the house.

…

Virgil had a pretty good idea of where he could probably find Patton. He knew that his friend wouldn’t have left the floor, which narrowed things down quite a bit. There was a spot that the two of them had visited frequently since Patton had first arrived, as they went on regular walks together, trying to get Patton’s strength up.

The walks were working pretty well, and they could go a lot further now before Patton needed a rest than they had been able to at the beginning, meaning that they usually no longer needed to use this place for a rest. Patton had come a long way. Even so, they often visited there, whether Patton actually needed a break or not.

There was a spot where a hole was cut into an air vent on this floor, both to allow access to the vent and to let more of the heat it carried to reach the littles’ house in the colder months. There was a vent cover near the entrance that had a view down into the apartment below, which had a large aquarium almost perfectly placed in the center of the view the vent provided. It was a nice place to spend some time, honestly, just watching the fish swim about. Virgil went there; and sure enough, Patton was sitting in front of the vent cover, hugging his knees and looking through the slats at the fish tank below.

“Hey,” Virgil said softly, nearing.

Patton looked up. “Oh, hi, kiddo!” he greeted. “What’re you doing here?”

“Came to find you.” He sat down at Patton’s side. “How are the fish?”

“Sasha and Sweetpea keep chasing each other,” Patton answered. He had insisted on naming all ten of the fish in the tank during their past visits. “Maybe they’re playing tag.”

Virgil nodded seriously, looking down at the fish, two of which, sure enough, were chasing each other around the tank. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “I hope we didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay,” Patton mumbled, looking back to the fish.

“It’s okay if it’s not okay,” Virgil said.

Patton shifted, adjusting how his arms rested around his knees. “Really, Virgil—I know that you and Emile are going to fight sometimes. And I know you’re not going to kick me out. It just… makes me nervous, sometimes, that tone of voice.” He looked away with a feeble shrug.

Virgil looked down at the floor of the vent ruminatively. After a moment, he put a reassuring arm around Patton’s shoulders. “I’ll try to not do that anymore,” he said. “And I’ll talk to Emile. We can try to have more… discussions, before things get heated.”

“It’s not even really just _fighting_ , though,” Patton admitted softly. “It’s just…”—he smudged at his eye with his sleeve—”when she used to get annoyed, it wasn’t… It wasn’t good.” He kept staring determinedly down at the fish. “I know you’re not—you’re not even….” ( _Human_ , Virgil thought, silently finishing the sentence.) Patton swallowed. “But it still makes me nervous, for some reason. It’s not fair to ask you guys to never be annoyed with each other, or realistic. I know that.”

Virgil bit his lip, his heart sinking at the thought of having scared Patton. “How about we promise to leave the room if that happens?” he offered. “You shouldn’t have to be the one who has to leave.”

Patton seemed about to refuse, but Virgil squeezed his shoulder, and he reluctantly nodded. “If… if Emile’s okay with it,” he whispered.

“He will be, I know it. Besides,” Virgil said. “Emile and I were talking, and… we should hopefully not be fighting as much anymore. I realized I’ve been kind of a jerk to him.”

“You’re not a jerk,” Patton mumbled.

“Thanks. But… I did act like a jerk, kind of, to him. He was upset that I didn’t tell him about you before I brought you home. I guess he thought that I thought he wouldn’t want to help you. Which… I honestly hadn’t even considered.”

Patton glanced over, but he didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, I think it’s going to be better now,” Virgil said. “He’s probably out on that supply run already, though, so it’s just going to be the two of us for the next couple of days.”

…

Several minutes passed in silence, the two friends watching the aquarium below. After a while, Patton released his knees and sat back, uncurling a bit from his formerly hunched position.

“Do you think Roman and Logan are okay?” Patton asked softly. The question probably seemed out of nowhere, especially given their previous conversation topic; but Patton still thought about the humans quite a lot.

“Does it matter?” Virgil frowned, glancing at him. “They’re humans.”

“Yeah, but…” Patton bit his lip. “I’d just like to know.”

“Why?” The question seemed genuine.

“I don’t… I don’t know. They were pretty nice to me, weren’t they, even though they’re humans? I don’t really—I don’t know why they let me go, or why… anything they did. But they were nice to me. Without them, I could’ve….” Patton trailed off, uncomfortable and uncertain. “I don’t know.” The humans had saved him, really. Patton was pretty sure. He knew that he had been in bad shape when the found him—even if they had basically kidnapped him, Patton thought that their intentions were good. They had fixed up his hands, given him food and water and a place to recover from his ordeal; although, they hadn’t exactly gone about it the way that Patton would have preferred. Even after they had stopped trapping him in the cage, they left him on top of a table that he was too ill to climb down alone. There were also the multiple times they had scared him, whether it was intentional or not. Plus, while he didn’t remember much about when the humans had found him at the beach, he was pretty sure that he had not exactly been captured willingly. Still, the bad things that the humans had done didn’t negate the ways that they had attempted to help him. Even the outfit whose sleeve Patton was worrying between his fingers attested to that. The fact remained that, had Roman and Logan not found him, the chances were not insignificant that someone else would have instead. And even if that hadn’t been _her_ … Patton would prefer not to think about it. He knew that he had gotten lucky.

If he hadn’t been caught by Logan and Roman, after all, he would never have met Virgil and Emile, would he?

Virgil brought Patton out of his thoughts when he sighed, looking up towards the ceiling. He had made it clear that he still thought that the humans had been trying to trick Patton into becoming a pet, or an experiment, or something of the sort through some kind of mind game; but he had also all but admitted that they had seemed to genuinely want to help Patton. Now, he looked conflicted.

As Patton watched, Virgil screwed his eyes shut, as if already suspecting that he was going to regret what he was about to say. “Well…” he began reluctantly, “I guess… we have some free time while Emile’s out on his supply run. If—if it’ll make you happy, we can go down to the second floor. Just for a bit, to look in on them.”

Patton sat up straighter and turned to his friend, surprised. “But… I thought you closed off all the doors?” He had been working on that for a while, starting a couple of weeks after he’d rescued Patton. Once he’d been settled in, Virgil had started leaving about one day per week to work on closing off the doors. Emile had reluctantly allowed it since it didn’t require leaving the walls, and Virgil surely wasn’t going to disobey in this case. Virgil had finished the job some time ago.

Virgil shifted at his side. “I left one,” he admitted quietly. “For emergencies.”

Patton felt a flutter of excitement. “You’re sure about this?” he checked.

…

Virgil knew he shouldn’t have made the offer.

The humans that Patton had been trapped with were just that: humans. Practically synonymous with the word “danger”. But as Virgil watched his friend’s eyes light up, he felt a bit better about his decision. What he was offering really didn’t invite a lot of danger: they were not going to let the humans see them, and they were not going to get close enough to get caught even if that did somehow happen. They were certainly not going to talk to the humans. Virgil was only offering a look at them, to show his friend that they were okay. Something he would definitely not be offering had the humans shown any sign of seriously looking for Patton. Either they had given up quickly, or they were almost hilariously incompetent at searching for him. Good news for the littles either way.

“Yeah, I'm sure,” Virgil assured, getting to his feet. “Consider it an apology for upsetting you.” He adjusted his crutches and put out a hand to help Patton up. His friend took it with a small smile; and Virgil pulled him to his feet, trying to ignore the fact that he could still feel the thick, slightly raised line of the scar across his friend’s palm. “Let me be clear, though—we’re not talking to them, or letting them see us. Just looking in on them. I left a doorway in the living room. We can see them from there and stay hidden.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Patton said.

“I know. But if it’ll make you feel better, and we don’t take any risks… why not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: If you had to live either on a beach or on a mountain, which would you choose?


	38. Checking In

Virgil and Patton walked back home together. There was only one major climb on the way, to get down to the part of the wall where their house was located. Virgil felt a glow of pride at how quickly Patton managed it. It wouldn’t be long until he was faster at it than Virgil—as he logically should be, with both legs at his disposal.

Many littles in his place would probably be bitter about that, but Virgil wasn’t.

…Okay, okay. If he were being completely honest, maybe Virgil was _slightly_ bitter. How could he not be? He had to watch Patton get better and better and know that he couldn’t do the same. This was it for him. He sometimes felt like he was trapped in a jar, watching everyone else go on without him.

But he was trying hard not to feel that way, and he knew that neither Patton nor Emile would want him to. Mostly, he really was just glad that Patton was getting better. He hadn’t left Patton behind when it was he who struggled most to keep up. Hopefully Patton would return the favor.

Virgil knew Patton well enough to know that there really was no ‘hopefully’ about it—Patton would wait for him no matter what. Not just because of how indebted Virgil knew Patton still felt to him, but because he was just that good of a person.

As they neared the house, Virgil pushed aside his unwelcome thoughts. Envy wasn’t helpful to anyone. He couldn’t change his situation, and to try to do so was as pointless as trying to keep the sun from rising. He should just be glad for Patton’s improvement.

When they arrived, Emile was already gone. Virgil wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed by that fact.

He and Patton collected what they would need for their trip, which wasn’t a lot: just some water, a rope and hook, a snack just in case the expedition took longer than was expected. Within minutes, they were ready to set out. Virgil and Patton walked together, side by side when possible; but often, the tunnel was narrow enough that they had to walk one in front of the other. Virgil went first since he knew the path better.

…

“Are you sure they won’t see us up here?” Patton asked. He and Virgil were quickly nearing the single remaining doorway they had into Roman and Logan’s apartment, which Virgil claimed led out onto a shelf in the living room. They still had a while before they reached it, though, so they made conversation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Virgil promised. “As long as we’re quiet. The shelf is up high, and there’s plenty of junk on it to hide behind. You should have been able to see the shelf from that table the humans had you on.”

Patton thought back. He remembered there being a few shelves on the wall across from the windows. He’d certainly had enough time to memorize the layout of the room. They’d been cluttered, yes, but not with anything useful to a little.

“Why have a doorway to a shelf like that?” he asked.

“Emile’s idea,” Virgil explained, rounding a corner. Patton followed after him. “He likes cartoons, y’know, so he wanted to be able to watch them when the humans put them on. Not exactly the _safest_ idea. Ironic, since he criticizes me for—.” He cut himself off. “Sorry. Anyway, they worked out to actually be pretty hidden. He chose spots that the humans ignore on purpose. The one in 2B—that’s the apartment we’re going to—it just leads to a shelf with a bunch of random stuff on it. Even if they did somehow see us up there, we’d be gone before they could get us. I actually went there a few times to keep an eye on you when the humans had you, when they were home and I couldn’t actually go down there.”

“Oh,” Patton said softly. He hadn’t known that. “So—so why leave _this_ door? I know you had a bunch of doors into the apartment. Wouldn’t it be better to leave one with access to things other than a shelf?”

“Well, like I said, it’s for emergencies.” Virgil paused at an opening in the floor of the tunnel. “We have to climb down from here,” he informed him. As he started downwards, he continued his thought. “Like… say you disappeared again. We could come to this shelf and be able to see the whole room. If the humans took you again, they’d probably keep you in this room again, and we’d be able to see if you were here or not.”

“…Oh.” He’d meant _that_ kind of emergency, not a shortage of supplies or something else along those lines. Patton shook off the uncomfortable feeling that came with this realization—he wasn’t sure what exactly the feeling was, but it was decidedly unpleasant—and followed Virgil down the hole.

They didn’t have to climb down far. Patton could already make out a muffled sound through the wall that he recognized as Roman’s voice. It was answered by a slightly deeper rumble a second later. Logan. They were both in the apartment.

“I don’t suppose this is enough to satisfy you?” Virgil asked feebly below him. He seemed to be having second thoughts.

“Well… they could be saying anything,” Patton pointed out. Virgil had offered to let him actually _see_ them, and it really did sound like the place he was taking him to was well hidden. “I’d like to know, if it’s okay?”

There was a pause. Then, “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to go out there with me,” Patton offered. “You can wait in the wall.”

“Nah.” Virgil sounded more certain now. “I’m good. It’s not like I haven’t gone out there before. No reason to be more nervous this time.”

They soon stood at the doorway itself: a four-inch by one-inch portion of the wall whose drywall had been almost completely chipped away. All that stood between them was a bit of wallpaper, the seam between two panels conveniently located here to allow access without the littles having had to cut the paper.

“The seam being at this part of the shelf was just luck,” Virgil whispered. “Emile called it a ‘happy little accident’, I think.”

Patton wasn’t sure what exactly that meant. He was rather distracted, practically bouncing up and down with nervous energy. He was rather torn: a part of him really wanted to see the two humans again, but the other part couldn’t help but be scared at the prospect.

“Remember—no talking to them, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise,” Patton swore. He wouldn’t risk getting captured again. As proof, he held out his hand for a pinkie swear—the most strictly binding oath that he knew of.

Virgil seemed momentarily baffled at having Patton’s smallest finger held out to him. After a short pause, he reached out his own pinkie finger and touched the pad of it to Patton’s. Patton giggled, careful not to let it get too loud.

“No, no, like this,” he said, hooking his pinkie around Virgil’s. “It’s a pinkie swear.”

“Right,” Virgil said, looking down at their hands. He was clearly still confused.

“You’ve never made a pinkie swear?”

“Um… no?”

Patton shrugged, unhooking their fingers. He’d thought it was common knowledge; but then again, most littles were rather isolated, from what he could gather. “It means I promise I won’t do anything that’ll get us caught.”

With that matter settled, they decided to listen for a few moments, just to get an idea of what was going on inside the apartment. It would be rather bad if they just so happened to go out on the shelf the one time that the humans paid it any mind. Being at the doorway, they could hear better from this spot what the humans were saying. Conversely, this also meant that the humans were more likely to hear _them;_ hence, the whispering.

The two littles sat close to the wallpaper, listening. One of the humans seemed to be pacing, footsteps moving back and forth from one end of the room to the other.

“Wait, so what’s the problem again?” Roman was asking. He sounded a little further away than the pacing human, who must have been Logan.

“I told you, Advanced Biochem and Physics 3 have the same lab time on Thursday next term,” Logan’s slightly lower voice answered. He sounded agitated, an unusual tone for him. “I have to wait to take one until next year!” Patton couldn’t help but shrink back as his volume rose.

“But….” There was the sound of a few keys tapping, then something clicking. “This says there’s a lab on Tuesday, too.”

“Yes, but that lab is at the same time as a tutoring session.”

“Oh, right. Couldn’t you back out of that? There’s other tutoring sessions.”

“I can’t, they don’t have enough tutors to cover it.”

“Well… granted I’m not a cyborg like you, but aren’t those both really hard classes? Would it really be the worst thing to move one?”

“They are, but if I do that—.”

Patton looked over at Virgil as the humans continued their discussion. “They sound pretty distracted,” Patton noted, a tinge of hopefulness in his voice. There was no way they were looking at the shelf. Logan was pacing, and it sounding like Roman was using one of those “laptop” things.

“…should be focusing on exams….”

Virgil nodded in agreement. He shifted slightly closer to the wallpaper seam itself. “Lemme go first,” he said. He reached out a hand and pushed at the wallpaper.

There was an odd sound. The wallpaper didn’t move as easily as Virgil had clearly expected it to.

“I think it’s stuck,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He pushed harder, the wallpaper shifted, and suddenly there was a loud scraping noise. Virgil’s eyes widened and he stopped what he was doing immediately, but it was too late—the scrape was rapidly followed by a clatter, and then a loud _crash_ on the floor far below. Both littles jumped an impressive distance into the air, then quickly moved away from the opening, going in opposite directions within the wall.

Patton could see Virgil pressed against a wooden support, his hands clamped over his mouth as if the humans would hear him so much as breathe. One of his crutches was at his side, the other having been abandoned in his haste.

…

The humans had gone suddenly silent. Virgil kept his hands pressed to his mouth, his heart hammering. His foot ached from his hurried retreat, but that was the furthest thing from his mind right now.

“What in the name of all seven dwarfs was _that?_ ” one of the humans finally asked.

A pair of precise footsteps neared the wall. There was a scraping sound, the clink of broken glass. Virgil listened hard, his whole body tense. He desperately hoped that they weren’t about to be discovered.

“That photo frame of yours fell,” the other voice answered. “It appears to have taken two of the figurines with it. I _told you_ this shelf was too cluttered.”

The first human spluttered indignantly. “Where else am I supposed to put it? Besides, it was fine for the last three days!”

“Perhaps one of the neighbors. That setup was so precarious, a shutting door could have made it fall.”

There was a huff from below. “Well—is it broken?”

“Why, yes, Roman, the frame and glass pane are very much broken. The photo is undamaged, however, if that is at all reassuring.”

A second pair of footsteps joined the first. There was a long, distressed whine. “I got that from the _director_ —.”

Virgil looked over as Patton moved, beginning to crawl towards him. He stiffened as his friend neared the doorway, the light from the wallpaper seam falling across him; but he just grabbed up Virgil’s lost crutch and kept moving, getting away from the door unscathed.

He pointed meaningfully upwards, back the way they had come. _Let’s go_.

Virgil nodded, taking the crutch from Patton in shaking hands. The humans were still far, far too close for comfort, their voices far too loud. He was finding it a little hard to think straight. Granted, he _wasn’t_ straight, but that wasn’t important at this moment.

Patton touched the string around Virgil’s middle, then one of the crutches, and made a tying motion. Virgil got the message. He tied the crutches to his back, and Patton helped him to his feet. They made their way to the portion of the wall they used as a ladder as quietly as possible, one of Virgil’s arms around Patton’s shoulders for balance as he hopped the short distance to get there.

The humans had gone back to talking about whatever they’d been discussing before, but Virgil could tell that they were still at the base of this wall, picking up whatever he’d knocked over.

Even after they had climbed higher up in the wall, after they had walked through the walls towards the kitchen, it wasn’t until they were safely at the base of the wall on the third floor that Virgil felt like he could breathe again. He was still shaking, and as he and Patton sat down there, he realized Patton was trembling slightly as well.

“Sorry,” Virgil found himself saying. “I really didn’t mean to fu—to mess that up for you.”

Patton shook his head. “It’s okay. I know you wouldn’t do that on purpose.”

“They never rearrange that shelf, Pat, I swear.”

“Kiddo, I _know_. It’s fine, promise.”

Virgil looked down at a few specks of dust, sighing. He couldn’t help but think that Patton would blame him for this, would think that he had made the offer to see the humans only to pull a stunt like this as some kind of ploy to scare him away for good. Not knowing what else to do, he silently reached a hand towards Patton, holding out his pinkie finger

Patton smiled, hooking his finger around Virgil’s.

…

They sat there for some time, until both had calmed down from the close call. They drank some of the water and shared the peanut that they had brought with them. Then they made for home.

It was a relief when they made it back. Patton turned on the lights just in time to see Virgil flop down on the floor dramatically, making the corner of Patton’s mouth quirk upwards. It was good to be back somewhere they felt safe.

The two decided that they’d had enough excitement for one day; and so, much of the rest of the day was spent mending clothes and just talking. Virgil had his bad foot propped up on a bundled blanket, and Patton wondered if he’d hurt it somehow. Virgil didn’t seem to find it worth bringing up, though, so maybe it was just a little sore. Patton still felt a bit guilty. Even if the trip was Virgil’s idea, it was for Patton’s benefit.

As the afternoon wore into evening, Patton found himself wondering how Emile was doing. Virgil didn’t seem too concerned: Emile went off alone quite a lot, and he was more suited than either of them for going on supply runs, both more experienced and much faster. He wasn’t expected back until the next night at the earliest. Virgil had said that Emile wanted some time alone to think; but even so, Patton hoped he wasn’t lonely.

It wasn’t long after dinner that Patton started to nod off. His eyelids grew heavy, and he couldn’t seem to stop yawning. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, with his nightmare and all.

“Hey, Pat? You want to go to bed soon?” Virgil asked, clearly noticing.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“…Pat, your eyes are closed.”

They were? He forced them open again. Virgil came into focus across the room. “No, they’re not,” he pointed out. It was technically true, even if it hadn’t been just a few seconds before.

Virgil shook his head, already starting to get up. “Come on,” he murmured, holding out a hand.

“I’m not tired,” Patton mumbled, which was an obvious, boldfaced lie. The lights overhead flickered as if they were laughing at him.

Virgil took his hand anyway. “Well, we can still talk in the bedroom instead of out here, can’t we?”

Patton supposed that was true. He let Virgil lead him to the other room, and he lay down in the bed. Virgil sat down at his side and started telling him a story, something about when he and Emile were kids. He thought it had to do with dandelions, but it was hard to pay attention. Virgil’s voice had a soothing cadence. He really should be listening to the story. Probably.

…

Patton blinked open his eyes and yawned. He had woken up gently, slowly. No nightmares last night, it seemed. Patton was relieved, especially after that horrible one the night before. His gaze fell on a shape curled up just in front of him: Virgil, who was still sound asleep. When Patton propped himself up on an elbow, he saw that the rest of the blanket nest was still empty. That was unsurprising, since Emile had said he would be gone for two days.

Patton gently extricated himself from the bed, padding barefoot into the next room. He turned on the lights and looked at the clock. Virgil probably wouldn’t wake up for a while yet; so Patton just grabbed himself something small to eat and settled himself on the floor with his colored pencils and a few fresh scraps of paper.

Virgil came out of the bedroom a few hours later. “Hey, Patton,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Hello!” Patton greeted, looking up from his drawing. It was of two of the fish from the aquarium they’d gone to the day before.

“Fish?” Virgil asked.

“Mhm.”

“Is that Sweetpea?” He gestured at one of the fish with the end of his crutch.

Patton laughed. “Actually, that one’s Sasha.” He wasn’t very good at art.

“Oh, right, I see it now. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo.”

Virgil sat down at his side with a huff. “Can I draw with you?” he asked unexpectedly. “Maybe we could have this whole place covered in drawings by the time Em gets back. Confuse the heck out of him.”

Patton gave him a delighted smile. “I would love that!” he said. He passed over a sheet of paper, then moved the colored pencils to sit between the two of them. Virgil picked up the purple colored pencil and began to draw with his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: What is/was your favorite cartoon?


	39. Discovery and Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be forewarned, this chapter is over 5k words!

Patton laughed, watching Virgil draw huge swirls of color on a swath of paper, one fist-sized colored pencil held in each hand. When he seemed done with those, Patton reached over and offered him two different ones. They traded and kept drawing. The pair of littles were both lying on the floor, pieces of paper spread in front of them.

The small house was already about two-thirds of the way covered in ‘artwork’, and it was only now nearing dinnertime. Emile wouldn’t be back for a few hours, at the very earliest. They could have the whole house covered in drawings by then, especially since they had switched to larger pieces of paper and far less detailed drawings. This was partially for time constraint purposes, but they also didn’t want to use up all of the colored pencils.

Patton returned to his own drawing, which was a two-inch by three-inch piece of paper he was lightly coloring yellow. He planned to put a big heart in the center.

“Good thing we have so much paper,” Virgil commented, looking up to gaze at all the drawings already stuck to the walls, the ceiling, even the water jar. Emile had recently brought two entire sheets of paper back, folded up of course, as a present for Patton. This probably wasn’t exactly what Emile had intended it be used for, but Patton didn’t feel too bad: he could always draw on the backs of the papers later.

When Patton had finished his current drawing, he decided to take a short break. He sighed, stretching, and laid his head down on the paper, watching as Virgil continue to draw.

Another hour or so went by before they ate dinner; and after that, Virgil decided to call the thorough coating of the house in drawings complete.

“We do need _some_ clear space, after all,” he joked. “Plus, we should probably get some actual chores done before Em gets back.”

…

Virgil and Patton tidied things up in the house—leaving the drawings alone, of course—and had a quick, early dinner. After that, they went out to do some maintenance on the tunnels nearest to the house. This mostly consisted of clearing away dust, making sure nothing had gotten blocked or damaged due to human activities, and doing any necessary repairs.

It was really nice to have an extra set of hands for this, Virgil thought. The work went by almost twice as quickly with the two of them. Patton was currently off in a nearby tunnel, doing the same work as Virgil. They’d decided to split up, designating a certain stretch of tunnels for each of them to go through before returning home.

Virgil was almost finished, with just one more short passage to check. He wondered if Emile would be home that night, or if he would stay on one of the upper floors and return in the early morning. He probably should have asked which his brother had planned on doing before he left, but Virgil had been a little eager to get out of the house at the time. So, either option was possible. Perhaps he would even be back by the time Virgil arrived.

He finished up his work, putting a piece of an eraser over the end of a new nail that a human had stuck in the wall recently. The rest of the tunnels he went through had only needed a bit of dusting, thankfully, since they were used pretty often.

He went home. Emile wasn’t there yet, which didn’t surprise Virgil, even if he was a little disappointed. He beat Patton by about ten minutes, too; but by the time he had gotten his supplies put away and had prepared for bed, his friend had already arrived.

Virgil curled up in the blanket nest that night hoping that Emile would find the drawings coating the walls of the house as funny as he and Patton had. More than that, he hoped that he would come back as soon as possible. Virgil didn’t like to admit it, but he still got nervous whenever Emile was out on a supply run. They were dangerous no matter how experienced the little.

…

Roman carried the broom and dustpan into the living room with a heavy sigh. He was still upset about the loss of the picture frame the day before. It had been a gift from the director of the play he was in, with a signed photo of the entire cast and crew inside. The photo itself was undamaged, thank goodness, but the frame had been really nice! It sure didn’t help that the two figurines it had knocked down as it fell had belonged to Logan, who was now understandably upset with him.

His plan right now was to finish clearing away the remaining debris, the smallest bits of glass and ceramic and wood still stuck in the coarse carpet, as well as to rearrange what remained on the shelf and make sure they wouldn’t follow their companions’ lead.

First, he stood up on the kitchen chair to reach the shelf—he wanted to be doubly sure that nothing was going to fall on his head while he was cleaning up the floor beneath it. He moved a couple of trinkets away from the edge, then went back to the floor. He’d finish rearranging the shelf when the broken glass was completely gone.

He swept up what he could, but it quickly became clear that he would need to get out a vacuum to clean up the rest. Roman reluctantly retreated from the room, carrying the broom and dustpan.

He returned dragging the clunky machine with him. It technically belonged to Logan: Roman had a cheap little vacuum in his closet, but it really only worked on the linoleum kitchen floor. Otherwise, they had to use this one. Roman plugged it in and vacuumed up the carpet, doing the rest of the room as well while he was at it.

Once he had emptied out the vacuum’s bag and put it away, he returned to the shelf. Roman stepped up on the kitchen chair, using the wall to balance himself. One side of the shelf looked the same as before, still just as cluttered; but the other side looked much more bare without the frame and figurines. Roman got to work rearranging things, focusing mainly on making sure they weren’t going to fall over the edge, but also on presentability. When he felt satisfied, he leaned away slightly to take it in for a final approval. Then, he hesitated.

A piece of the wallpaper was sticking out, right at what must have been the seam between two different panels. Roman didn’t think it had been like that before.  Maybe the picture frame had caught it and pulled it slightly off the wall? He frowned and reached up to see if he could press the wallpaper back in place.

…Only for his fingers to go right through the paper, _into the wall_. There was a small ripping noise, and Roman gasped, so surprised he nearly fell off the chair—thankfully, he caught himself in time, almost sending a little soapstone carving falling off the shelf in the process.

Roman stared at the hole in the wall, at the torn wallpaper now bent slightly into it. How had he and Logan never known about this before? Why on Earth was there even a hole in the wall in the first place?

Roman probed around the wall with his fingers to find the edges of the hole. Oddly, it was nearly a perfect rectangle. He frowned, not sure what to do about this. He readjusted the wallpaper as best he could to cover the hole again and got down from the chair. He picked said chair up by its back and had just started to carry it back to the kitchen when his gaze fell on what had been Patton’s food dish. He’d put it temporarily on the table, so that it would be out of the way while he was vacuuming. He must have forgotten to put back.

He stared at it for a second.

_…Wait._

Roman dropped the chair, right on his foot.

…

It was past noon, and Emile still hadn’t returned.

Virgil was apparently not as unconcerned about Emile’s absence as he had let on. He was getting more antsy as time went on, seeming unsatisfied with any task that he and Patton set themselves to.

Right now, they were going through the food supplies, taking note of what they had and what they would soon need. The idea was to decide which floor to visit next on a food run, based on which apartments usually had which provisions easy for the taking.

They were about halfway done, but it was taking longer than it probably should have. Virgil kept looking towards the doorway, seemingly not even fully aware that he was doing it.

“He’ll be okay, Virge,” Patton assured. “He’s probably just slowed down by all the stuff or something. Besides, didn’t he leave around this time? So, it’s really only _now_ been two days, like he said. He’ll probably be back soon.”

“I know, I know… It’s not like he’s never been late before. I just… Usually he _over_ estimates how long he’ll be on these longer trips, you know? I just have a bad feeling.”

Patton reached over and squeezed Virgil’s hand. The lights flickered.

“Let’s just give him a little more time before we go panicking, okay?”

…

Roman was sitting on the couch, anxiously picking up and setting down his cell phone.

_He’s in an exam right now, you can’t call him! He’s not going to pick up, anyway!_

But Roman wanted to do just that, so, so badly. His fingers tapped on his leg, inches from where his phone sat on the sofa. He glanced at the ice pack on his foot, sighing through his nose. He looked back at his phone.

Then again, Logan wasn’t the type to forget to silence his phone. If he sent a text, Logan would get it when he finished the exam. Was there really any harm in sending that message now?

Roman clicked on his roommate’s contact and began to quickly type. He sent four short messages, rapid fire, and then sat back, waiting.

 **Princey:** Logan!

 **Princey** : Call me when you’re done

 **Princey** : It’s about our small friend

 **Princey** : IMPORTANT!!!

Twenty agonizing minutes passed until Roman’s cell phone rang.

“Logan!” he cried, picking up on the first ring.

“Greetings, Roman—what news did you have to share? Is it about Patton?”

Roman shushed him, even though what he’d said was pretty innocuous. They’d long since decided it was best not to share any info about the mouse-man.

“Yes, it is,” he confirmed. “Are you alone?”

“Affirmative.”

“You’re not driving, are you?” Logan’s voice did sound suspiciously like he was on speaker.

“Does that matter?”

“Just—pull over somewhere, ‘kay?”

There was a sigh. “This had better not be your way of making me forget that you owe me two figurines.”

“What—? No! Seriously, just pull over.”

Roman waited until Logan took him off of speaker phone, so he knew Logan really had pulled over. Then he explained what he had found.

…

Patton and Virgil put together a meal for Emile to have when he got back, at Patton’s suggestion. Patton had pointed out that he would probably be hungry when he arrived; and even if he wanted to take a nap first, he would appreciate the food being ready for him.

Still, it was clear that Virgil was growing more and more anxious. No matter what distraction Patton tried to provide, his eyes kept drifting to the door and to the watch face propped up in the corner.

Patton had to admit that he was growing worried, too.

…

“Where is this supposed hole in the wall?” Logan asked, regarding the shelf. He seemed skeptical about this whole thing. Maybe that was because he was still annoyed with Roman; maybe it was because he truly thought that this was impossible; but Roman thought it was because he didn’t want to dare hope it was true until he saw for himself.

But Roman? He was sure.

There was the box of fabric scraps, with the side cut out and pieces missing. There was the fact that Patton hadn’t needed the door opened for him to get out. And now, there was this nearly perfectly cut hole in the wall. Why it would be on a shelf of all places, Roman didn’t know, but he was sure now: The mouse-men lived in the walls, and Patton was likely still here.

“Right at the wallpaper seam,” Roman told his roommate, pointing. “Level with the top of the shelf.”

Logan frowned. “Roman, this just looks like someone shoved something through the wall.”

“No, you’re looking at the wallpaper—which was an _accident_ , by the way! I was trying to get it to lay flat. I’m telling you, the hole was there first. The wallpaper covered it up. Look at the edges—does that look accidental to you?”

“…No,” Logan admitted. “But how do you know that this hole wasn’t simply cut and covered over by a previous owner of this unit?”

“Because…” Roman trailed off. Okay, maybe he didn’t know that for sure. But still. “Look, I’m telling you, they’re still here. They live in the walls!” Or at least, they had at one point, but Roman was hopeful that that was still the case.

“You don’t know that,” Logan sighed, starting to get down from his chair.

“Why don’t you believe me? You’re the one who still leaves that thing out every day.” Roman turned and gestured emphatically at the small, unassuming food dish, sitting in its spot on the floor by the table.

Logan’s face was tight. He strode forward, bent down, and picked up the food dish. “Maybe I should stop.”

“Logan—no, that’s not what I meant,” Roman said.

“ _If_ he is still here,” Logan said, still facing away from Roman, “then it is clear that he wants no contact with us, is it not? _Two months_ have passed with no word from him. I do think he has made his feelings about us obvious.”

Roman dropped his gaze.

“I would prefer to believe that he is gone than to know that he saw us as nothing more than kidnappers,” Logan finished softly. “I should have gotten rid of this dish weeks ago.” With that, he carried it off into the kitchen.

Roman looked up at the shelf once more, then reluctantly retreated to his room to gather his school things. He had a final in an hour.

…

Virgil was pacing, looking from the clock to the doorway and back again and again. Patton twisted his hands together nervously. It was getting later and later, and still there was no sign of Emile. Normally they would be eating dinner around now, but neither little had an appetite.

“I’m going to go look for him,” Virgil announced.

Patton found that at this point, he couldn’t argue. It was entirely possible that Emile was fine, and they would run into him on his way back, but Emile was _really_ late now. He started to get up. “I’ll come with you.”

They grabbed the essentials: some water, a few pieces of food, a few other items. Patton saw Virgil slipping bandages into his bag with shaking hands, but he decided not to comment on it.

Patton clipped a water pouch around his waist and forced his features into a smile. “Ready to go?” he asked. His voice only wavered slightly, so he called it a win. Part of him wanted to cry; but this was Emile, Virgil’s brother and one of the two people Patton was closest to in the world. He had to stay focused.

Virgil looked around the room, searching for anything he might have missed, then nodded. “Yeah, come on.” He led the way out into the tunnels, going as fast as his crutches would allow. Patton barely paused to turn out the lights before hurrying after him.

They followed what Virgil said was the route that Emile always took to the upper floors.

They made it up to the middle of the fifth floor with no sign of him. They both wanted to keep going, but… Patton needed a break.

“Virgil,” he gasped out, hating himself for it. “I can’t….”

“Okay—okay,” Virgil said, sounding equally frustrated. He seemed unable to stand still. “Look, you stay here. I’m gonna go look around. Yell if he comes by. I don’t care about being quiet right now.”

Patton didn’t argue. He only nodded, sitting so his back leaned against the tunnel wall. He just needed a few minutes, just until he caught his breath and the pounding in his head abated.

Virgil went off into the dark, the tap of his crutches fading with him.

…

Roman closed the apartment door with a sigh and tossed his keys onto the counter. They barely missed the bowl that he had been aiming for, where they were usually kept. Instead, of course, they slid right off of the counter, clattering to the floor. _That pretty much sums up how my life is going_ , Roman thought. He strode forward and grabbed up his keys, very deliberately dropping them in the bowl this time.

He fetched a drink from the fridge and walked into the living room, intending to forget his sorrows in the fizzy soda and a rerun of whatever was playing on the gameshow network. His final could have gone better, but at least it was over now. Roman flopped down on the couch and turned on the television.

His gaze kept going back to the shelf, as if hoping he would see Patton standing there, waiting for him.

As he stared, a thought occurred to him.

Oh. Oh, no.

That picture frame hadn’t fallen by itself, had it? It had been leaning on the wall, right up against the hole hidden there. What if Patton—or some friend of his—had been trying to come through, had tried to push through the seam; and then _that_ had happened? They could have been hurt! At the very least, they must have been terrified!

Roman covered his mouth with a hand, both his soda and his gameshow rerun forgotten.

What if they had missed their one chance to see Patton again, all because of a dumb picture frame?

…

Where was he?

Virgil hurried through the tunnels as fast as he dared. They were dark, and he didn’t want to miss anything. But so far, there was nothing.

He rounded a corner and reached the door that Emile would have used to get into this apartment. Virgil reached out towards it for a second, then shook his head. Searching the tunnels would be a better use of his time right now, wouldn’t it? (Hell, he didn’t know what he was doing.) He turned and rushed back the way he had come, towards the other apartment on this floor.

Patton was waiting where he had left him, shifting from foot to foot.

“Find anyth—…?” Patton trailed off, apparently seeing the answer in Virgil’s eyes. He followed after Virgil as he went to search the other half of the tunnels, struggling to keep up.

“Wait! _I_ found something,” he said quickly, before they could get too far. Virgil jerked immediately to a stop, and Patton crashed into him, nearly sending them both sprawling.

“Where?” Virgil demanded. There wasn’t time to apologize.

“Over here.” Patton went in front and all but ran to a little nook within the wall. A pile of supplies was stacked there, along with an old mitten, which presumably served as a bed.

“He was here,” Virgil realized aloud, not caring how his voice cracked. He searched the supplies, trying to figure out what was missing. Assuming that Emile had been putting all the supplies he collected on this floor here, that would tell them where Emile had already been, narrowing down their search significantly. Because if they couldn’t find Emile in the tunnels, they would have to search the apartments.

Virgil searched through everything, stopped, and searched again.

“What is it?” Patton asked in a shaking voice.

“It’s—everything’s here. Even the stuff from the sixth floor. He should have been _done_ , I—.” Virgil slammed down the roll of tape he was holding, his eyes stinging. “Where the hell did he go?”

“M-maybe he went to get some food,” Patton said. He sounded close to tears. “That’s possible, isn’t it?”

Virgil sniffed, rubbing at his face with his sleeve. “Yeah… it’s possible.”

“Let’s finish this side of the floor. Then we can decide what else to do.”

Virgil nodded numbly, shoving the supplies back in the corner. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

Patton waited for him to get to his feet, and then they continued their search.

…

Logan got home that night to find Roman asleep on the couch, snoring softly as the title sequence for one of his fantastical DVDs played. Logan watched him for a few seconds, then retreated into the kitchen.

He returned with a kitchen chair, which he silently set next to the wall. He cast a glance towards his sleeping roommate, then stepped up onto the chair so he was facing the shelf Roman had indicated to him. He had readjusted the wallpaper earlier to obscure the hole in the wall. Now, Logan carefully peeled it back, just enough to insert his pointer finger. He felt around, finding not only the gap immediately within the wall, but also some space on either side of it, almost like a tunnel. He would have expected to find insulation there, not empty space.

“So, you do believe me.”

Logan jumped slightly, then cleared his throat and straightened his glasses. He hadn’t noticed Roman’s change in breathing, which should have tipped him off to his roommate’s waking. He had been too distracted by his task. He slowly turned around

“Ah… good evening,” Logan said, suddenly very self-conscious.

Roman sat up and reached to turn off the television. “So? What do you think?”

Logan sighed and stepped down from the chair. “I admit, there is what appears to be a tunnel of some kind behind the opening. I do not believe that this is enough evidence to go on alone, however.”

“Well—what about the fact that Patton didn’t need the door opened to get out? I know you’ve thought about that, too.”

“I had assumed he escaped through the vents, perhaps.” He glanced at one and frowned. The slats of the rosters in their apartment weren’t quite spread out enough for Patton to have slipped between them, he was inclined to believe; but he hadn’t been able to come up with any other viable explanation.

Roman followed his gaze and made a doubtful noise. He bit his lip. “I do have something else,” he admitted. “More evidence.”

That caught Logan’s attention.

“You do? Where? What is it?’

“Hang on, I’ll be right back.” Roman rolled to his feet and walked off towards his room.

He returned carrying a box, one of the containers he kept under his bed for crafting supplies. Logan raised an eyebrow as Roman deposited it on the coffee table.

“Right here.”

Logan knelt down and inspected the part of the box that Roman indicated. It was a seam, taped shut. It must have been previously damaged.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Something or some _one_ cut through the seam of this box and popped it out. Nothing hit the box; there’s no dent anywhere. And a few things were missing from it, too. Think about Patton’s outfit! People like him have to get their stuff from somewhere, right?”

Logan straightened his glasses. He had to admit that this new evidence was compelling. He wondered why Roman had kept this to himself until now, but he decided that it wasn’t relevant enough to ask.

Regardless of any evidence, the fact remained….

“This only serves to confirm my less preferable theory,” Logan said. “The “mouse-men”, as you insist on calling them, do not want to have anything to do with us. They haven’t for months.”

“I was thinking about that, too!” Roman announced defensively, pointing at him with a dramatic flair. “Patton was sick! What if they waited until he was better to come see us? That could be what happened yesterday with the picture.”

Logan looked back to the shelf, thinking it over.

“Perhaps,” he admitted at last, trying to quell the tiny flame of hope in his chest. “But what makes you think they’d come back again, especially after a scare like that?”

Roman faltered. He clearly didn’t have an answer to that.

“In the grand scheme of things, this discovery effectively changes nothing. Unless you are proposing that we hunt him down—,”

“Of course not!”

“—then there is little value in continuing this line of thought further. Now, if you will excuse me, I must get ready for bed.”

Logan stalked out of the room, leaving Roman’s protests behind.

…

It was now late in the night, and they still hadn’t found him.

By that point, Patton had a pressing dizziness clouding his head. He was wheezing slightly, out of breath; his head ached; and his legs simply didn’t want to do their job properly anymore. But he didn’t bring any of this up to Virgil, who was hyper-focused on their task. They had to keep going. They had to find Emile.

After the search of the rest of the fifth floor proved fruitless, Virgil had decided that they would search the sixth floor, too. He insisted that if they hadn’t found him on the fifth floor, then he must have been on the floor above. They were up there now, having just finished the climb to the level of tunnels in the middle of the wall. Virgil got his crutches untied from his back and immediately hurried off, leaving Patton to stumble after him.

On this level, they searched one side of the floor, yet again with no luck. They had been methodically searching through all of the tunnels, and it was taking a toll on the little. He may have vastly improved in the past few months, but he was still recovering.

As they neared the turning point to go towards the other half of the floor, Patton finally stuttered to a halt, unable to go any further.

“Virge… think I’m gon… gonna wait here,” he said softly. He was so lightheaded.

Virgil, just ahead of him, stopped. He started to turn around, his attention captured by Patton’s tone. The light coming in through a crack in the wall fell across his face. He seemed alarmed, Patton realized with a vague sort of disinterest.

Patton swayed, his vision tunneling. He thought his friend shouted something, but he didn’t quite hear it. Everything suddenly seemed very far away.

…

Virgil jerked to a halt at Patton’s words, the tone of his voice setting off alarm bells in his mind. He turned to look; and as soon as he did, Patton suddenly pitched forwards, his eyes rolling up in his head.

_“Patton!”_

 Virgil let go of his crutches and _lunged_. He caught at his friend, his left ankle buckling under his weight. He fell to his knees with a loud _thump_. Clutching onto Patton tightly, he lowered them both the rest of the way to the floor. Tears of both fear and pain now flowed freely.

“Oh, god, oh, sh*t, Patton! Patton, please, I’m sorry—wake up! I’m so f*cking sorry, Patton, please!”

Virgil held Patton in his lap, rocking them both back and forth, begging his friend to open his eyes. Tears kept rolling down his cheeks, and his foot was screaming in pain. Right then, he didn’t even care if his cries woke the humans beyond the wall. He couldn’t do this alone.

What felt like an eternity passed, although it was likely no more than a couple of minutes. Finally, finally, Patton opened his eyes. Virgil gasped.

“Patton! You—you passed out, are you okay?”

Patton slowly blinked, then looked around, clearly disoriented.

Virgil watched him, holding his breath. “Patton?” he croaked, pleading.

“I’m okay,” he answered finally, swallowing thickly.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—,” he hiccuped. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Patton reached up and rubbed at his eye, not much control present in the movement. He let his arm fall to his side. “No, it’s…. You should be looking for Emile.”

Virgil felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “I can’t lose both of you,” he whispered. He reached and fumbled to unhook the water pouch from his hip with one hand, nearly dropping it, and held it out for Patton to drink.

Patton accepted a few mouthfuls. Virgil was still stammering apologies for pushing him too far, but Patton interrupted him. His voice was quiet, but Virgil broke off as if he’d been slapped. “Virgil, stop. I’m okay…promise. I just overdid it. I should have said something sooner; It’s just as much my own fault. Please don’t be upset.”

There was a short pause. Virgil looked away. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted in a broken voice.

Patton looked up at him wearily. “I think… we might need some help, Virge.”

“Help? Where are we supposed to get help? It’s just us here. You’re sick, and my stupid foot’s—.” Virgil choked back a sob. He just wanted Emile back. He wanted Patton to be okay. He wanted to be back home, coating the house in silly drawings without a care in the world.

Patton looked at him meaningfully.

“…No,” Virgil said, realizing what Patton was getting at. “We can’t go to humans.”

“They’ll help, I know they will.”

“Even if they would, they’re in the _other freaking direction!_ I need to be looking for Emile, not getting myself… captured….” His voice trailed off, and he paused.

“V?” Patton prompted.

“Oh my god,” Virgil said, sitting up straighter. “Oh my god, Patton, what if _they_ have him? It’s possible, right?”

“…I suppose,” Patton admitted slowly. “The humans can move between the floors, I think.”

“Right! Right. What if—what if they found him and t-took him? It would explain why—why he didn’t come back right away.”

Patton certainly didn’t look eager at the prospect of travelling down another four floors. “Maybe…. We can’t go right now, though, you know,” he said quietly, reasonably. “The humans are probably asleep.”

Virgil nodded, his heart hurting. He knew the real reason they couldn’t go right now. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. I-in the morning, then.” He smiled a watery smile. “Gotta make sure you’re okay, too, right?”

A tear leaked from the corner of Patton’s eye. “I’m sorry, Virgil. We should have gone looking earlier.”

“It’s okay,” He forced out. “You didn’t know. Neither of us did.”

They stayed right there for the night, in the tunnel on the sixth floor. Virgil wasn’t sure if Patton could stand, and his own foot felt like it had been broken again (although he knew this wasn’t actually the case). It wasn’t a risk remotely worth taking to get back to Emile’s setup on the floor below. Instead, Patton remained where he lay, half in Virgil’s lap. Virgil only shifted them so that he was sitting up against the wall of the tunnel rather than in the middle of it. Patton fell asleep within minutes, exhausted. Virgil didn’t think that he would be able to sleep, both due to the fear for his brother and the pain in his leg; but his own fatigue soon caught up with him; and he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Tomorrow, they would return to the humans.

Tomorrow, they would find Emile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to share with you guys my incredibly detailed and very serious outline for this chapter:
> 
> Roman is ~enlightened~  
> “Emile’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days” 
> 
> Also, please share what you guys think of this chapter! I'd love to see your reactions, even if it's only expressible via keyboard smash.


	40. Snap (Comic)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an unusual update, but it does at least partially answer the question: What happened to Emile?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this is not quite the normal chapter, but I was playing around. We'll be back to written chapters for the next update. :)
> 
> Question for the comments: What's your favorite movie or movie genre?


	41. For Emile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: This chapter is a little over 4k words, so not as long as the one two weeks ago, but still rather long.

When Virgil woke up, it was dark and cold. A sliver of light coming through a crack in front of him illuminated a few dust motes drifting through the air. He blinked tired eyes in confusion, his brain still catching up to the present. This definitely wasn’t his bedroom. Where was he? Why wasn’t he at home?

As he was wondering this, Virgil felt something shift in his lap and glanced downwards. Patton was lying there, still fast asleep. His torso was partially propped up in Virgil’s lap, his legs sprawled out carelessly on the wooden floor of the tunnel.

It was like the sight sling-shot Virgil back to the present. He forgot how to breathe. Ice flooded his veins, and it felt like his heart had frozen solid. He remembered exactly why he and his friend were sleeping in a cold tunnel on the sixth floor, and not at home in bed.

_Emile was missing._

Virgil heard a small, strangled noise. He was distantly aware that it had come from himself.

_Emile needed him._

Virgil blinked hard, jolting himself out of… whatever that had been. He had to get it together, for his brother. He sucked in a breath and forced himself to focus back on his friend, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Patton,” he whispered. “Wake up.”

The image of Patton falling forwards, of his eyes rolled up to show the whites, flashed in Virgil’s mind’s eye. He shuddered.

“Patton,” he repeated. Patton didn’t seem to hear, just letting out a soft breath in his sleep. Virgil bit his lip. He really wanted to get going—Emile was counting on them, as terrified as Virgil truly was at the prospect of what they were planning to do today—but the horror at himself for what he had done to Patton the night before, however accidental, was far too fresh. They had likely only slept for a few hours, judging by the fatigue that continued to claw at Virgil’s bones. Still, every second counted at this point, and they had wasted too much time already.

He and Patton hadn’t gotten to finish looking through the tunnels of the sixth floor, he remembered. Perhaps Virgil could do that, and he could come back to get Patton afterwards. Patton needed the time to rest, especially since their destination was four entire floors below.

Virgil carefully shifted Patton in his lap to free his other arm, then slid the backpack off of his shoulders. He hadn’t bothered to take it off the night before; or rather, he had forgotten about it entirely in light of the situation. He rolled his shoulders and winced, then unwrapped the string from around his torso so that he could remove his jacket. Then he gently lifted up Patton and slipped out from underneath him. Patton didn’t even stir, he was so tired. Virgil’s heart ached with guilt.

He laid Patton down again at the side of the tunnel, his head pillowed on Virgil’s backpack (he removed a few bandages and a peanut, whatever would fit in his pockets, on the off chance he actually somehow did find Emile), and covered Patton up with his jacket. Then he wrapped the string back around his own torso.

With that done, Virgil swallowed and looked around for his crutches. They were a short distance away, discarded where they must have fallen when he dropped them to catch Patton. He scooted himself a couple of inches nearer until he could reach them, holding back a wince as his already sore foot was aggravated. He certainly had done it no favors, lunging like that; but he didn’t regret his choice for a second. It had either been that or let Patton fall. Not really much of a choice at all.

Virgil glanced back towards his friend, who had curled up slightly under the jacket but seemed to still be fast asleep. Hoping he would be back before his friend awoke, Virgil stood up and set off down the tunnel, continuing his search for Emile.

…

Patton felt… lousy. His head ached, his joints and muscles were stiff and sore, and his mouth was uncomfortably dry. The feeling was almost like he’d gone through one of Marissa’s more rough playtimes the day before, but that was impossible. He wasn’t with Marissa anymore. Besides, he didn’t feel _bruised;_ just sore.

Patton shivered, curling up more under the blanket that covered him. Why was it so cold? Where were Virgil and…?

 _Oh_ , he thought sadly. _Right._

He opened his eyes.

Patton was lying on the floor of the tunnel, his limbs sore from yesterday’s ordeal and from sleeping outside in the cold tunnel, his whole body protesting the fact that he was even awake. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking around for Virgil. Only then did he realize that his friend’s jacket was draped over him like a blanket; and his pillow was actually Virgil’s backpack. Patton frowned. Virgil must have gone somewhere, without his jacket. Wouldn’t he be cold? Patton had the jacket and his long-sleeved outfit, and he was still cold. Why hadn’t Virgil waited for Patton? Surely, he must have been coming back soon, though, right?

A part of Patton was concerned that Virgil might have decided to go alone to see Logan and Roman, but he didn’t think that was likely. Virgil wouldn’t abandon him like that. They were going together to see the humans. He would be back soon. In the meantime, Patton decided the best thing to do was just to wait: there was no use in going to look for his friend. With his luck he’d end up going the wrong direction and just causing more problems.

Patton lay back down, and within a few seconds, his eyes had drifted shut.

He woke again what felt like only moments later to a murmur and a gentle hand on his shoulder. Virgil was there, kneeling in front of him. He must have just returned.

“Hey, Pat,” he was saying, his voice noticeably shaking. “How are you feeling?”

…

Even though Virgil hadn’t truly held out much hope that he would magically stumble across his brother in the other half of the six floor’s tunnels, it still hurt to have to return empty handed. He took a little extra time to look in a few of the vents, just checking the sixth floor apartments for any obvious changes—such as, say, a brand new cage on display, or a careless human telling their friends about the tiny person they had found. But he came up empty.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Virgil had returned to Patton. He was relieved to find him still asleep where he had left him. As much as he hated to wake him, Virgil knelt down and put a hand on his shoulder. This time, Patton’s eyelids fluttered open.

“Hey—hey, Pat. How are you feeling?”

Patton mercifully ignored how much Virgil’s voice shook. He blinked as if to get his bearings, then yawned.

“I’m just fine, kiddo; feeling much better.” He struggled to sit up. “Are you still up to do this?” he asked, studying Virgil’s face in the dim light with tired eyes.

Virgil steeled his resolve. “I’ll do what I have to.” He still held out some distant hope that they would find Emile themselves, either at his setup on the floor below or already at home and wondering where the heck Virgil and Patton had gotten off to; but the side of him that remained rational knew the odds of that happening were not exactly good. He was going to speak to humans today for the first time in his entire life, and he had to somehow convince them to give him his brother back—or, if Emile truthfully was not there, to help bring him home.

He had a feeling that Emile would not approve of their plan, but he wasn’t here.

Patton was getting to his feet. Virgil kept a close eye on him, his hands fluttering as if ready to catch him again. Judging by how he moved, he felt just as stiff and sore as Virgil did, if not more so. He stayed upright, thank goodness; but Virgil didn’t like the way he swayed. Patton, however, waved off his alarm and pushed Virgil’s jacket into his arms.

“Jus’ a headrush,” he assured, his words slightly slurred. “Nothing to worry about. Ready to go?”

As much as Virgil wanted to rush off just like that… he was not risking a repeat of the night before. “Let’s have some water first.”

A few minutes later, Virgil supposed that they were as ready as they were going to get. They had both had some water and something to eat—like the day before, it wasn’t much, as both littles still lacked an appetite, but it was better than nothing. Virgil insisted on helping Patton along on their trip when possible, using one crutch instead of two. It would be much slower going, that was for certain; but Virgil wasn’t convinced that Patton really was better; and this way, there were extra safeguards to keep the night before from repeating. Virgil had already lost Emile, and the possibility of getting him back was looking more and more distant. He wasn’t about to lose Patton, too; certainly not due to his own carelessness.

They set off, and whenever the tunnel was wide enough, Virgil would offer Patton his support. Virgil had his right arm around Patton’s waist, Patton’s arm around his shoulders. He kept the one crutch under his left arm, the other tied to his back. Virgil was admittedly frustrated by the pace, but he also seized the distraction. Even when the tunnel was too narrow for them to walk side by side, Patton kept a few fingers hooked in either Virgil’s backpack or the string tied around him, to keep from falling behind and to assure him that he was still there. For the climbs downwards, Virgil stayed at Patton’s side, ready to grab onto him if he looked unsteady. Patton kept assuring him that he was okay, but Virgil still didn’t quite believe him. They took breaks this time, to Patton’s clear relief, even if he kept denying their necessity. Virgil was a bit too antsy to let them be very _long_ breaks, but Patton didn’t seem to mind. He wasn’t wheezing or stumbling like before, which Virgil was glad to see.

When they made it down to the fifth floor, they headed straight to the hideaway that Patton had found there. To see that it had clearly not been touched since they had left hurt Virgil much more than he had expected, especially considering that it really wasn’t a surprise at all. Everything was still there, in the slightly haphazard pile of supplies that they had shoved back in the corner. The mitten, with a thin layer of dust visible in the dim light, had obviously not been slept in.

“Maybe we should take some of this stuff back with us,” Patton suggested quietly.

Virgil shrugged noncommittally. He took off his backpack and started putting some of the items in, fitting them around the bandages and other supplies already inside. He fit about a third of what was in the pile before closing the bag back up. Patton, meanwhile, collected all of the string. Some of it he tied around his middle like Virgil did to secure his crutches, while other pieces he looped around his neck like a large scarf. He looked a bit silly, but Virgil wasn’t in the mood to smile.

He shouldered the backpack. “Come on,” he said in a whisper, getting back up and holding out his arm for Patton.

…

They made it down to the fourth floor without any trouble. It was warmer there, thankfully—more of the vents on this floor had holes cut in them to carry some of the warmth to their home, unlike the upper floors especially. Up there, there usually wasn’t much reason to do that. They didn’t go up there much, the cold season didn’t last long where they lived, and heat rose, anyway. It made much more sense to siphon heat from the vents on the same floor as their home, and the one below.

Speaking of their home.

Virgil and Patton couldn’t help but walk faster as they neared it, each holding out on the hope that Emile would be there, waiting for them.

However, while they did find something waiting for them, it was not Emile.

“What is that?” Patton whispered warily, peering down the passageway they were taking. A shuffling, squeaking noise drifted from that direction. The littles came to a halt.

“Stay here,” Virgil whispered. He pulled the second crutch from its bindings on his back and set off. He went slowly, doing his best to muffle the sound of his walking aids on the wood as he neared whatever was making the noise. Whatever was _in their home._

He quickly reached the house; whose door was wide open, showing nothing but yawning darkness. Had they left it that way? Virgil was unsure. But either way, something was definitely in there. Something big. Virgil cautiously entered and snapped on the lights.

The intruder was no little, but _an actual rat_. It was young and still small, but it was digging through their home, getting into their supplies and ripping and breaking their other belongings in its quest for food. At Virgil’s sudden arrival it squeaked loudly, turning around carelessly and causing things to fall over and crash into each other.

Virgil was _livid_.

“GET OUT!” he shrieked. “ _GET OUT!_ ” It was ruining everything! All of their supplies! Their house! Everything he and Emile had worked so hard to put together!

The rat bared its yellow teeth at him, its ears pressed flat to its head. It saw the door and barreled past him, out of the house and into the maze of tunnels. Virgil swatted it harshly with a crutch as it went, very nearly losing his balance.

Looking at the mess it left behind, Virgil sank to his knees. The tears threatened to make a return.

Patton came in after a minute and put a hand on his back, but he clearly didn’t know what to do. Nothing he could have said would have helped, anyway.

….

They didn’t bother to clean up—there simply wasn’t time—but they did more or less put away the supplies that they had brought from the fifth floor. It wasn’t organized by any means, but they didn’t leave them out in the open. Patton suspected that part of the reason they stayed in the house for any length of time at all was because Virgil was forcing himself to give Patton a break. Patton appreciated it, although the thought made him sad. He really was feeling better, mostly.

 In the process of putting away the supplies and taking stock of what the rat had damaged, the two littles realized that they had never put away the plate of food that they had made for Emile. They’d left in too much of a hurry, leaving it to sit out in the open. The young rat had probably been attracted by the smell: an invitation to a free buffet while the littles were gone.

“We’re going to have to throw away everything.” Patton looked over to see Virgil gazing at what remained of their food supplies. The containers had been knocked over and chewed open, the contents either missing or scattered across the floor.

“We can’t worry about that now,” Patton said softly. “We have to go.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Virgil said, getting to his feet. “Just—you’re good, right?” He sounded afraid. Whether it was of Patton potentially fainting again, or of what they were planning to do, or simply because his brother was still missing, Patton didn’t know. Probably all of the above.

“I’m good, Virge,” Patton assured. “Let’s go.”

..

The closer the littles got to their actual destination, the more and more frequently Virgil kept mumbling things like, “What am I doing? Oh, god, what am I doing?” under his breath.

“We’ll be okay,” Patton murmured on a few occasions, but Virgil seemed not to hear him.

Even with Virgil’s fear—both of their fear, to be honest—they made good time, and it seemed all too soon when they had arrived at the second floor. It wasn’t much longer until they had climbed down to the level of the shelf.

The time had arrived: there was no putting off talking to the humans any longer. Patton only hoped that they were home. He honestly had no idea what time it was, but it must have been daytime given the light coming through the wallpaper seam before them. It looked much more weathered than Patton remembered, more torn, but he wasn’t sure if that had happened during their ill-fated attempt at checking in on the humans a few days before, or if the damage had happened after. He supposed it didn’t matter.

Virgil, meanwhile, had clearly decided not to give himself the chance to chicken out. He shoved his way out onto the shelf.

“Humans!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

…

For a moment, nothing happened. Virgil’s heart was beating faster than felt possible. He could barely feel his hands.

Like a mantra, he just kept repeating in his head, _For Emile. For Emile. For Emile._

As he stepped out into the light, shouting for the humans to come out, Virgil looked around the room, searching desperately. The contents of the shelf he stood on had been rearranged again, but the little paid more attention to down below. Specifically, to the glaring lack of a cage on the table where Patton had been kept. Instead, there was nothing but a stack of books and a conch shell.

That didn’t mean Emile wasn’t there, Virgil tried to reassure himself. The apartment had more than one room. Emile could be in any one of them.

Virgil heard Patton cautiously climb out behind them.

“Where are they?” Virgil snapped. He couldn’t see anything but an empty room. No humans, and more importantly, no Emile.

“They might not be home,” Patton guessed in a soft voice. “Logan?” he called out much more loudly, although not quite reaching the same volume Virgil had a moment before. “Roman!”

There was a sound from elsewhere in the apartment.

“They’re here,” Virgil surmised. Perhaps they just couldn’t hear them. He glanced around, then went up to one of the smaller objects on the shelf, adjusted his crutches so that he could use his hands, and started pushing.

“What are you doing?!” Patton asked, hurrying over.

“Improvising.”

“M-making them angry won’t—!”

The soapstone carving fell like—well, like a rock.

Patton was interrupted by the loud crash, and both littles jumped. A door opened and shut, and quick, thundering footsteps rapidly approached the room where the littles stood. Virgil squared his shoulders and tried to shove down the panic rising within him. It was too late to turn back now.

“Roman? Was that you?”

“Try again,” Virgil spat. The human, now just inside the doorway, froze. He turned wide eyes in the littles’ direction, and Virgil suddenly found himself making eye contact with a human for what was, again, _the first time in his entire life_.

The human had pale skin, dark hair, and dark eyes behind squarish glasses frames. His eyes bored into Virgil, who desperately hoped he wasn’t actually shaking as hard as he feared. His heart stopped under those eyes, those altogether too-large eyes. The human, however, was already turning to Patton.

His mouth opened in a small ‘o’, almost comically.

“Hi, Logan,” Patton said, the tremor in his voice almost subtle. “I’m back.”

…

Logan felt like he had short-circuited.

He had been getting ready to leave for the day when he heard what had sounded like someone yelling somewhere outside, but he had chalked it up to the neighbors being rowdier than usual. Only to have that followed by a loud crash—one that had definitely come from their own living room.

He had expected to find Roman there, messing around. He would have been less surprised to find a burglar. What he had _not_ expected to find was Roman’s soapstone turtle broken on the floor, and Patton standing on the shelf, really, truly, there. Not only that, but he was not alone.

Logan, who had honestly never expected to see the impossibly small “mouse-man” again, even after Roman’s discovery and deduction that they likely living in the walls, was having trouble tearing his gaze away from his former patient. But Patton’s companion wasn’t having that, apparently.

“ _Where is he?_ ” the “mouse-man” demanded.

“What?” Logan asked, finally looking to the newcomer. He was mostly hidden from view, only his shoulders and up visible from behind a touristy snow globe. He didn’t look much like Patton, with significantly darker skin and hair—did “mouse-men” have different races, like humans?—but like Patton, he appeared to be approximately five inches tall. Logan wondered if he also had a tail.

“WHERE IS HE?” the “mouse-man” demanded again.

“Wha—Roman? He’s probably still asleep,” Logan stammered, completely confused and taken aback at being yelled at by someone the size of his hand.

Patton was murmuring something to the newcomer. Their body language made it clear that the two were close, Logan couldn’t help but notice.

The newcomer nodded and swallowed hard. He seemed to be trembling slightly, and Logan realized something: his brazenness was nothing but a front. The “mouse-man” was terrified. _Of him?_ he wondered.

Patton was sitting down on the shelf, his tiny legs hanging over the edge.

“Hi—Hi,” he was saying nervously. “M-my friend doesn’t—he doesn’t mean to be rude.” Logan blinked. “We just—w-we were hoping you might—if you might help us.”

Logan took an uncertain step towards the shelf, and both Patton and his friend flinched back. Logan immediately retracted the step.

“How can I help?” he asked, lowering his voice to the volume he and Roman had often used when talking to the “mouse-man” while he had been in their care.

“Do you have my brother?” the newcomer asked, his voice strained. At least he wasn’t shouting this time.

“Your brother?” Logan repeated. “No—of course not. We haven’t seen any of… whatever you two are since Patton left.” He glanced towards the kitchen, wondering if he should fetch Roman, or if Patton and his friend would bolt the second he left the room. _They_ had come to _him_ , though, which was definitely worth taking into consideration—

“What are you doing?” Patton’s friend looked suspicious, following his glance. “Is he in the kitchen?”

Logan decided to tell the truth. “No, my apologies. I do not have your brother. I was simply wondering if it might be best to wake my roommate.”

…

Virgil had never done something so frightening in his life.

He just kept repeating to himself that this was all for his brother—his brother, Emile, his only family in the world, who _needed him_ —and tried to keep himself from falling apart.

But the human claimed that he didn’t have his brother, and there was no cage in the room. If there was on in the kitchen, Virgil couldn’t see it. What if they really had come all this way for nothing? If Emile had any time left, they could have just spent it away.

But humans lied.

“You—you can have me instead,” Virgil said, the words leaving his mouth before he could truly realize what they meant. “I won’t run aw-way. Just let him go, p-p-please.” He wanted to hit himself for how much he stammered, but he just couldn’t stop.

“ _Virgil,_ ” Patton hissed, shocked.

The human blinked large, dark eyes up at him. They looked almost black. Virgil tried to discern the human’s expression, but he wasn’t used to doing so on features so large.

“Look—just let me fetch my roommate, please. He is much better at this.” The voice was easier to interpret, although it would have helped if Virgil himself were feeling less frazzled; but even so, the human seemed alarmed, confused. Like he really didn’t know what was going on.

(They really didn’t have Emile, did they?)

“Maybe that’s—that’s a good idea,” Patton squeaked. “Just d-don’t come too close, if that’s okay? P-please?”

“Of course, Patton.” The human sounded relieved. “I will return shortly.” With that, he walked briskly out of the room. Virgil tried not to think about how quickly he could move.

Virgil felt like he was buzzing, like his skin didn’t fit quite right. He felt all kinds of wrong.

He jumped slightly at a tugging on his sleeve, and he looked down to see Patton gazing up at him in worry.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Virgil almost laughed at the absurdity of the question.

“No—sorry, of course not,” Patton said. He lowered his voice. “But, Virgil… I really don’t think they have him.”

Virgil took a shuddering breath. He didn’t want to admit it, but Patton was probably right.

“We can still ask them for help. They can help us bring him home.”

Virgil tried to swallow but found that he couldn’t get past the lump in his throat. “How?” he croaked.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Patton admitted. “But they can try.”

“He could be anywhere, Pat,” Virgil said. “We’re probably—w-we’re probably—” his voice was cracking apart and shuddering more and more as he struggled to get out the words—“pro-probably already _t-too late_.”

Patton grabbed onto Virgil’s hand. “No,” he whispered, sternly. “No, don’t do that. He’s still out there. We’re going to find him.”

Virgil wasn’t sure that Patton actually believed that, but before he could say anything, their conversation was interrupted by a loud thump. Both littles looked up sharply.

“ _What?!_ ” a muffled voice cried.

“That’s Roman,” Patton murmured. Virgil wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or not. Virgil knew who these humans were. He’d even seen both of them in the past, back when he had come to check in on Patton, and even a few times before that. The difference now was that they knew he was here.

A door opened, and haphazard footsteps came back towards them, shaking the floor and making Virgil tense so much it hurt; but the human seemed to stop himself just outside the living room, before proceeding much more slowly.

The first human walked back into the room, the second one behind him. He looked like he’d just woken up.

He also looked completely, utterly shocked.

“Um, hi,” the human said dumbly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: if you could have one super power which one would you choose?


	42. Desperate Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: this chapter's word count is over 6.7k!
> 
> Also I wrote and rewrote this part five times, please appreciate my efforts. XD

Roman was having a very nice dream. He was a valiant knight, the most trusted and honorable in the kingdom, and he had been sent on a quest to save a handsome prince from an enchanted tower. It was not the most difficult challenge this dashing fellow had ever faced by far, but he was happy to help and thrilled at the prospect of adventure. Of course, his quest was going almost perfectly. He befriended a dragon and persuaded it to aid him as his noble steed, fought off a manticore-chimera—admittedly a close call, but what was life without a bit of excitement?— and finally freed the damoiseau in distress. The two of them were just about to ride off into the sunset on the back of the dragon to have a picnic in the clouds… when the dream was very rudely interrupted by Roman’s roommate bursting into his bedroom.

He woke up and started so bad that he fell right off the bed. “Huh—wha—where’s Enrique?”

“Roman,” Logan said seriously, hurrying over and helping him up. “Patton’s here. He’s _here_. And he’s not alone.”

There was a fraction of a second before Roman’s mind processed what Logan said. “ _What?!”_ he cried. He didn’t wait to hear Logan’s attempt to explain before he burst out of the room.

He reached the living room, and there he was: sitting down on the same shelf where he’d found the secret entrance only the day before, watching him.

There were many things that Roman had wanted to say to Patton if he ever got to see him again. As it was, however, half asleep and taken so off-guard, he wasn’t able to recall a single one. So, when faced with the tiny mouse-man, he gave up on all of them.

Instead, he very eloquently stammered, “Um, hi.”

He was doing his best.

There was a beat of silence in which Roman just stared at the mouse-man—no, mouse- _men_ , he remembered, glancing around for the second visitor, spotting him where he was barely visible behind one of Roman’s favorite snow globes—and they both stared right back at him. Roman was not quite convinced that this was really happening, blinking hard to try to wake up his brain. Logan gave him a scrutinizing look, then reached over to a side table and silently handed him something. Roman looked down and noted with gratitude that it was Logan’s favorite coffee mug, filled almost to the brim and still hot.

“You need it more than I do,” Logan muttered.

“ _Mi salvador_ ,” Roman sighed in thanks, already lifting the mug to his lips.

…

There were precisely three things keeping Virgil under control at the moment. Three things keeping him from yelling and screaming until his lungs gave out, from shoving these humans’ junk off of the shelf until they got off their butts, stopped wasting time, and got to saving Emile.

The first was the fact that humans were very, very large, and Virgil was very, very _not_. No matter how dire the situation, the fact remained that the little was currently facing down not one but _two_ of these enormous creatures, either of whom could fit him in a fist with ease. The mental image was daunting enough to make him cautious, suffice to say.

The second was that Virgil needed the humans’ help. He couldn’t go yelling insults and otherwise pushing them to do what he wanted and not risk ending up on their bad side. Virgil couldn’t save Emile if he was dead. As much as he loathed to admit it, he very well might not be able to save him at all, not without the help of the humans.

The third thing keeping Virgil in check was, of course, Patton. Virgil had yet to come out from behind the snow globe, and Patton was still sitting on the edge of the shelf—far too risky, in Virgil’s opinion, although their whole situation right then was so perilous that Virgil supposed that Patton’s proximity to the edge of the shelf should be the least of his concerns. Patton had yet to let go of his hand, reaching up and back at a slightly awkward angle to grasp Virgil’s outstretched hand. He wasn’t quite squeezing Virgil’s hand, but it provided just enough pressure, just enough of something to focus on that it helped to bring him out of his single-minded, desperate fervor. It helped to ground him and reminded him of the stakes. Virgil was also reminded of the littles’ conversation from only a few days earlier, when Patton had admitted that yelling and tense conversations made him nervous. Patton’s presence helped Virgil remember to rein himself in.

Of course, none of these factors could work completely with Virgil as stressed as he was, and with every second that passed, he grew just a bit more desperate. Virgil knew that he was certainly acting rather abrasive, but he would argue that he was justified.

Virgil shifted, making sure he stayed as hidden as possible behind the snow globe. He was partially leaning on it, both wanting to ensure that he was as obscured as possible and needing the support to keep himself balanced. He was shaking more than he would prefer to admit.

The glasses-wearing human succinctly explained what had happened so far to his tired companion, apparently not noticing that his companion didn’t seem to be paying him any attention. Virgil didn’t pay much attention to the explanation either—it didn’t matter, it was just more time wasted that they could be using to find Emile.

Both of the humans were mostly focused on Patton—although, Virgil noticed with a bit of confusion, they also seemed to be avoiding looking directly at either them for more than a few seconds at a time. A part of Virgil was glad for this—the thought of them staring at _him_ was frankly terrifying—but mostly, it made his skin crawl. He could understand why the humans were drawn to Patton: he was the one who had escaped, after all, their lost captive who had gotten away from them. Virgil didn’t want them getting any ideas about taking Patton back. But also, more than that, Virgil wanted to keep their attention on the matter at hand. Emile was _gone_ , these humans were Virgil’s last hope at finding him, and _they were_ _running out of time_.

Virgil cleared his throat pointedly and felt the humans’ gazes jerk back towards him. He did his best not to shrink back and swallowed the fear rising in his throat.

“Will you help us or not?” he asked, as loudly as he dared, as loudly as he could when pinned under those eyes.

The human with the glasses—Logan, he was called—reflexively adjusted his tie. He glanced at his companion, seeming to realize that his half-awake roommate wasn’t going to be of as much help as he had probably hoped. He looked back to Virgil, then averted his gaze towards the snow globe in front of the little rather than having it bore directly into him “I would like to,” he said slowly. “But I do not understand how I can.”

The words hit Virgil like a blow, and he felt sick. He wasn’t sure how they could help either, not without doing things that went against every fiber of Virgil’s being. He was just desperate for someone, _anyone_ , to help him find his brother—as was obvious, given where he was at this very moment. Virgil knew that he couldn’t carry Emile back home alone, he knew that, as much as he absolutely despised himself for it; and it would take him far too long to search all of the apartments alone. Patton had already collapsed once, something that Virgil was not eager to let happen again. They needed help, if the humans were willing to provide it.

Even if the human’s response hadn’t been the most promising, at least he hadn’t outright refused… right? Virgil hoped that that was a good thing, and not the human trying to trick them out of leaving. Whatever the human’s intention with that response, Virgil needed to be sure that he wasn’t just wasting more time.

The other human, the one with the coffee mug and pajama pants, looked confused. His eyebrows drawn together, he turned to his roommate, seemingly about to ask a question. Virgil spoke first before they could waste any more time.

“No,” Virgil said as firmly as he could, staring at Logan. Patton squeezed his hand. “Tell me now. Are you helping us or not?” As one last, desperate plea, he added, “Think of—what if it were you? What if it were _your_ brother?”

 _Brother?_ the confused human mouthed.

Virgil had no idea if the human had a brother or not, but he hoped to appeal to his morality anyway. Whatever sense of morality a human could have. And if there was any doubt about his answer this time, Virgil was leaving right then to go and continue the search himself. Even if it was just him. He would just have to hope that he would be able to help Emile, and that it wasn’t too late.

 _It’s probably been too late since before you even noticed he was gone,_ a soft, almost viperous voice whispered in the back of Virgil’s mind. _He probably died while you were still drawing those stupid doodles with Patton. And you didn’t even know. You didn’t even say a proper good-bye!_

Virgil did his best to ignore the voice, loathing the fact that it was whispering such horrible (yet so very, horrifyingly possible) ideas. It wasn’t working. He must have stiffened or something, since Patton tightened his grip on his hand, casting a glance in his direction.

“Okay,” the human decided. All eyes went to him. Virgil wondered if he imagined the sympathetic look in his eyes. “I promise that we will help you however we can to find your brother.”

…

Roman was trying to focus; really, he was. Patton was back! He and another mouse-man were standing before him _right that instant!_ Unfortunately, however, a large part of him really just wanted to go back to bed. His mind felt foggy, his eyes kept trying to close themselves, and it felt like everyone was speaking on the other side of a wall, or underwater, or… something. He might have stayed up rather late the night before working on final projects, if you considered 4 in the morning late. So, he was running on nowhere near enough sleep, which certainly was doing him no favors with trying to process what was happening. He hadn’t exactly planned to be up nearly at this ungodly hour, in his defense.

Logan had started speaking to Roman, probably continuing whatever explanation he’d begun when he woke Roman up; but Roman wasn’t quite following much of what he was saying, far too tired and far too distracted. With some effort, though, he did absorb at least some of the information.

It seemed that the mouse-men had come to ask something of the two roommates (Of course, they couldn’t have just come because they wanted to. That would have been too much to ask for.) The new guy seemed to be trying to convince them of something, as nervous as he was—he was literally hiding behind a snow globe, only his head and the topmost part of his shoulders visible—but Roman wasn’t sure what he wanted exactly. If his stupid mind would just focus on more than just his tiredness and the sheer shock and excitement of seeing Patton again, maybe he would have known. It didn’t help that he seemed to have missed half the conversation.

Thankfully, mercifully, the coffee soon began to kick in; and the initial shock of the situation started to fade a little bit; but Logan had already stopped talking. Oops.

Roman looked up at Patton, making sure to avert his gaze slightly a moment later to avoid scaring him. He was sitting on the edge of the shelf, his arm reached up and slightly behind him to grip his companion’s hand.

Roman was torn. He couldn’t decide which of the visitors to look at. His eyes flitted back and forth between the two, looking at each one with wide eyes. He wanted to make sure Patton was okay, but he also wanted to study the stranger. Who was he? Was he the mouse-man who had been with Patton that night, when he left? Was he nice to their little friend? Why were the two of them here, and why now?

Mostly, of course, his gaze stayed on Patton. He cared about the little guy, even if they hadn’t seen each other in months. Was he doing okay? He still looked thin, but he did look much better, even with a cute haircut. Although he did seem tired, and a bit pale. What was wrong with him? Was he still sick? Or was it just because this was the first time Roman had seen him without a sunburn? It was so hard to tell on features so small, especially when Patton was up on a shelf, and Logan and Roman were down on the floor.

The other mouse-man cleared his throat suddenly, and Roman started slightly, looking back to him. He’d almost started to forget he was there, even though only seconds had passed.

“Will you help us or not?” he asked.

“I would like to,” Logan was answering. “But I do not understand how I can.” How he could help? What were they doing?

The mouse-man reacted like Logan’s noncommittal answer was a punch to the gut. Roman knitted his eyebrows. Why were the two mouse-men here in the first place? Whatever it was had to be important. He turned to Logan to ask, figuring it would be worth the tongue-lashing he got for not paying attention before.

The mouse-man was already speaking again, though, more firmly and demanding than before.

“No. Tell me _now_. Are you helping us or not?”

Roman wouldn’t have thought it was possible to be intimidated by a five-inch-tall person hiding behind a snow globe, but there was something in the stranger’s voice that commanded it. Like there was a second, more dangerous layer beneath it. Even though, rationally, Roman knew that the worst thing the mouse-man could do was push all of their stuff off of the shelf.

…Which wouldn’t exactly be a good outcome. Some of that stuff was expensive, and the sentimental value couldn’t be given a price. Maybe Roman did have reason to be intimidated.

But why did the mouse-man feel the need to intimidate him? Did the two of them really expect to be turned away?

Roman reminded himself that what was important was neither how intimidating a five-inch-tall person’s voice could be nor how easily said five-inch-tall person could break his prized possessions. What was important was that Patton and his friend needed their help.

In fact, it was desperation more than anything else that shone through what the mouse-man said next. “Think of—what if it were you? What if it were _your_ brother?”

 _Brother?_ Roman echoed silently. Wait—was something wrong with this tiny mouse-man’s brother? Was there a third one of them living in their house? Was he okay?

Logan seemed to know exactly what the mouse-man was referring to. “Okay,” he relented. “I promise that we will help you however we can to find your brother.”

Wait.

“Your brother is missing?” Roman asked in shock, perhaps a bit late on the uptake. Something that he would argue was justified on—he glanced towards the clock—not even 2 hours of sleep.

The mouse-man turned to glare at him. “Yes, for the hundredth time, _yes!”_

Patton looked up at the other mouse-man rather sharply at that, who in turn looked away.

Roman, meanwhile, opened his mouth and shut it again. Logan was apparently unperturbed, so Roman turned to him for help.

“Are we on some kind of rescue mission or something?” His voice was almost a whine, begging to understand what exactly was happening. Was there really a tiny, angry man in their living room here to yell at them and send them on a quest? Or was he still dreaming? Roman half expected Enrique to suddenly burst into the room.

“Did you hear nothing I said? But yes, I suppose that is one way to phrase it. His brother is missing,” Logan answered. “Patton’s companion’s brother,” he added, as if to clarify. “They have come seeking our aid.”

Roman nearly dropped his mug. “What?” he cried. He was shocked, obviously; but some part of him remembered to keep his voice quiet. “You—you— and you didn’t _lead_ with that?!”

“As I just told you, I attempted to explain the situation when I woke you, but you ran out of the room before I could. Apparently, you weren’t listening to my second attempt to explain, either.” Logan sighed, exasperated. “Besides, what exactly did you believe us to be discussing?”

Roman sputtered indignantly. “I’m tired! I was not expecting to be dragged from my beauty sleep like this, to be berated when I’m just doing my best. And—and you didn’t lead with that guy’s brother being missing! You said that Patton was here! That’s different!”

“How else would I have initiated the convers—?”

...

“HEY!” Virgil yelled, rapidly losing what infinitesimal speck of patience he had left. Patton flinched, but Virgil only had a fraction of a second to feel bad before both humans broke off at his outburst and looked back at the shelf, directly at him. He did his best not to flinch, and only partially failed. “Excuse me,” he said once he had their attention, venom in his words. “But can we get back to my brother, please? In case you’ve forgotten, HE. IS. MISSING.”

“Right—of course.” The human called Logan stammered. He cleared his throat softly. “Let’s talk, and then we can figure out what to do.”

He motioned to the sofa, and he and the other one—Roman, Virgil should probably call him—sat down. Finally. Virgil hoped it was worth likely having scared Patton with his outburst. He would apologize later. Logan cleared his throat, pulling a small (compared to the human) notebook and pen from his pocket.

“Can you tell me how long he has been gone? How sure are you that he’s missing, and not merely on an extended outing?”

Virgil shot Logan an indignant look. “Of course I’m sure he’s missing. Do I look like an idiot to you?”

Patton murmured something. Virgil took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to pull back a bit for his friend’s sake.

Logan didn’t seem angry, however. “Of course. Perhaps that was a poorly chosen question. Where and when exactly did you last see him?”

 “He was—he was su-supposed to be on the fifth and sixth floor, okay?” Virgil did _not_ want to tell the human where they lived, even if they had doubtlessly already figured out that they lived in the building. “But we went there, and we couldn’t find him.”

The human marked something down in his notebook, which Virgil looked at suspiciously. “Is there a chance he was on another floor?” He asked, looking back up. The human seemed annoyingly calm about this. “Say, the fourth, or up—"

“No,” Virgil snapped. “He said the fifth and sixth specifically.” Virgil was seething. Patton, already on edge, squeezed his hand rather hard. The message was clear: Virgil needed to calm down. Patton was practically begging him to. Virgil squeezed his hand more gently back, hoping it conveyed his apology.

The human marked down something else; but he otherwise stayed still and silent, as if waiting for him to continue.

“We—we thought _you_ might have taken him,” Virgil ground out, trying to tone it down for Patton’s sake, and reminding himself that getting on the humans’ bad side was probably a very bad idea. “That you might have gone up there and taken him. That’s why we—why I came here.” Patton had been thinking more along the lines of asking for help from the start.

The humans glanced at each other. Then the shorter one, Roman, set his now-empty coffee mug to the side and spoke up for the first time in a while. He seemed far more alert now than he had when he first came into the room. He spoke slowly and clearly, yet almost gently.

“Listen… I’m very sorry about your brother. I can imagine what you’re going through right now, and I know you’re scared out of your mind, but we really don’t have him. I would tell you if we did. I would _never_ keep family apart like that.”

Virgil froze, thrown off by the show of sympathy. For a few seconds the room was silent. Patton kept Virgil’s hand in his, a silent show of support. He continued on.

“If you really d-don’t have him—Look, we need to hurry, okay? Are you going to help us or not?”

“Of course, we’re not monsters!”

“Certainly. We have already stated that we will assist you, as best we can.”

Both humans had spoken at the same time. Virgil flinched back even though they had not raised their voices. He didn’t know how Patton had dealt with this for so long: Virgil hadn’t been here for more than twenty minutes and already he felt like he might turn to dust under the pressure.

“I don’t mean to cause delay,” Logan continued, ever business-like. “I merely need to collect some information so that we might determine how best to proceed. Now, to continue… How long has your brother been missing?”

“He was su-supposed to be gone for two days, but he never came home,” Virgil answered reluctantly. He didn’t know how this would help, but apparently this was the only way to get the humans to proceed.

“And how long ago was he meant to return?” the human pressed.

“Yest—yesterday morning,” Virgil forced out. “But I haven’t seen him since before he left home.”

The humans glanced at each other. Roman sighed.

“Lo, I think you’d better call out sick.”

…

Roman, Patton, and Virgil stayed in the living room while Logan retreated to the kitchen. They could hear his muffled voice, but Patton couldn’t make out the words. He wasn’t sure who Logan could be talking to, but humans often talked to things that shouldn’t have been able to understand them. Now wasn’t the time to try to figure that out.

 He glanced over at Virgil, still stubbornly standing behind the snow globe. He was probably trying to keep his crutches out of sight, Patton realized. Of course, he was. The humans had kept Patton for as long as they had because he had been sick. Virgil was afraid of them ‘keeping’ him because of his disability.

He was clearly agitated, shifting where he stood, his chest rising and falling faster and more shallowly than could be normal. Patton wanted to help, but he knew that only finding Emile safe and sound would bring him peace. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t being of much use, other than moral support. It was mostly Virgil doing the talking.

“So—so, are you okay, Pat?” Roman asked, sounding almost shy, probably taking advantage of the brief pause. “We haven’t heard from you in… a while.”

Patton’s gaze flicked back down towards the human, who was tentatively looking up in their general direction. The little found that it was much easier to be around the humans up here, looking down at them, rather than from their chest level or, even worse, from down on the floor. From this perspective, he could really take in Roman without most of the fear that had guided many of their previous interactions. He could understand why Emile had created perches like this, not just for watching television from without being seen.

Roman was fiddling with his pajama pants, waiting for an answer. His expression seemed nervously hopeful, but he didn’t seem willing to press for an answer. He really did care about Patton, didn’t he? He didn’t even seem angry that Patton had left, that he had stayed away for so long. He just seemed concerned.

“This is a waste of time,” Virgil said before Patton had decided whether or not he wanted to answer Roman’s question. He was making an effort not to yell again, but his voice was obviously stressed. “We need to find my brother, _now_.”

Roman flinched, like he was actually scared of a person who could fit in his hand. “We will. So sorry, I just got distracted. I’m afraid I’m just… not really sure where to start.”

Virgil groaned at the statement, so similar to what Logan’s had been earlier. “What do you mean? You go up there, and you find him!”

“We can’t just walk into other people’s homes, you know,” Roman said. “That’s illegal.” Patton didn’t know that last word, but he could guess. He glanced between the human and his fellow little, a bit tense.

...

“What _can_ you do, then?” Virgil asked.

“We can… I guess we could talk to people? Ask around if anybody’s seen anything weird? It’s a place to start at least.”

“Perhaps we could ask about anything strange in the building, and then gauge the neighbors’ reactions.” Virgil jerked his head towards the doorway. The other human had returned. “Of course, we will have to come up with an explanation for the inquiry to avoid undesired questions.”

“Logan,” Roman sighed in relief.

“You can’t tell them about us,” Virgil said quickly.

“No, of course not. We’ll just ask if anyone’s seen anything strange. If anyone reacts suspiciously,” Logan continued, “then we will know that that is most likely where your brother can be found.”

“Wh-what—what if no one does?” Patton asked hesitantly.

“Then… we come up with something else,” Roman said. “But fear not. We will not give up, we will not give in, and we will find… Sorry, what is his name?”

“None of your business,” Virgil said.

“It may be beneficial to know,” Logan argued in an annoyingly logical voice. “Should we find him, it would help us to gain his trust if we know his name, and yours. That will go a long way in ensuring that we can get him back to you without unnecessary distress.”

Virgil shifted uncomfortably. The humans had a point, but he couldn’t just go around giving out their names to humans! It would—well, he wasn’t quite sure why that would be bad, but it would be! Humans weren’t even supposed to know that littles existed, let alone anything about them.

 _Says the guy who walked right into their house and started yelling to get their attention_. Virgil winced.

God, he couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. Not only was he talking to humans, but he was begging for their help. And besides—what iteration of this wouldn’t end up with Virgil being carried by the humans? He couldn’t follow them upstairs on foot at any reasonable pace. And if Emile wasn’t just trapped somewhere, unharmed, then Virgil was basically asking the humans to carry him back here.

Virgil was an awful brother.

“Why don’t you come out from there?” a voice asked. Virgil jumped, jerked out of his thoughts, and turned towards Roman, who was looking up at him. “I can’t hear you very well. You’re sort of talking into the glass.”

“Oh, he’s—he’s just nervous,” Patton justified on his friend’s behalf. He was almost sure that the humans meant well, Virgil knew, but neither of the littles knew how the humans would react to Virgil’s injuries. Besides, they didn’t want to derail the focus from Emile.

Virgil gripped the snow globe somewhat defensively at Roman’s request. Why did he want him to come out? He was perfectly fine right here.

Roman shifted on the sofa. “Look, it’s not like we’re going to do anything to you. We’re helping you, aren’t we? I just want to be able to hear you better.”

“You haven’t actually _done_ anything yet,” Virgil pointed out in a low voice. They had helped Patton, but that was two months ago, and under entirely different circumstances. For the present situation, all they had done was talk.

“What?” the human asked.

The other human sighed. “I’ll go gather some supplies. Roman, please see if you can glean any other helpful information. The more we know, the better we can prepare.”

Roman nodded, and Logan walked out of the room.

“Please come out?” he asked again. “I promise I won’t move.”

Virgil and Patton looked at each other. Virgil really didn’t want to come out. He really, really didn’t. But he also didn’t want the humans to change their minds about helping him because he was being uncooperative. He had already broken one of their things to get their attention in the first place; and he hadn’t exactly been the embodiment of politeness after that, either. He shouldn’t push his luck any further. So, Virgil nodded, gritted his teeth, and came out from behind the snow globe.

There was silence as Virgil stepped into the open. He kept his eyes trained on the wooden shelf for a long second before he dared to look up. The human’s eyes had widened in surprise, taking in the crutches, then widening further as they landed on Virgil’s partially missing tail. He flicked it to the side in annoyance, breaking the human’s eye contact with it.

“Happy?” Virgil asked.

The human blinked owlishly, then seemed to recover from his surprise, and averted his eyes. “Oh—uh, yes, thank you,” he said awkwardly. “Sorry. Okay, so—about your name? And your brother’s?”

“No.”

“Well, would you at least tell me what he looks like?”

Virgil blinked. “Do you really think you’re going to somehow end up with the _wrong_ —the wrong one of us?”

“I don’t know! A few months ago, I didn’t know you guys existed at all. Now there’s two of you in my living room.”

“That’s fair,” Patton murmured.

“He looks like me,” Virgil sighed. “Okay? You’re so big you probably won’t know the difference between us, anyway. He was wearing gray pants and a tan shirt last I saw him, if that’s somehow helpful.”

“It might be. Thank you.”

Virgil nodded, looking away. All this conversation was taking a lot out of him. He didn’t want to be here, talking to creatures so many times his size. Plus, every word he exchanged with them was a second that he wasn’t spending looking for his brother. Every minute that passed felt like a piece of him was chipped away, painful and slow.

…

The mouse-men and  Roman spoke for a short while longer, Roman asking what questions he could think of (What the missing mouse-man was doing on the fifth and sixth floors in the first place, how he might react to Logan and Roman, if Patton or his companion had any ideas about which floors or apartments he would more likely be at or where he might be in those apartments, etc.). The mouse-men had answered, taking it seriously even if they were still clearly holding back information. Roman avoided the name question for the moment, but he hoped that they might be able to get it out of them before the two roommates left.

“I’m going to go check in with Logan real quick, and then I’ll be back. Okay?” He paused. “So… I’m going to get up now.” He hesitated again, glancing up at the two mouse-men. Patton gave him a tiny nod, and Roman got to his feet. With one more glance towards the mouse-men, he left the room.

He found Logan in the bathroom, pawing through the first aid kit and muttering to himself. The messenger bag at his side was already half-full of things they might need and probably many more that they wouldn’t.

“Ah, Roman,” Logan said, noticing him. “I am attempting to determine a method of how we might be able to transport this—this “mouse-man”. He will likely not appreciate being held in a hand; and if he is hurt, we should find a way to move him as little as possible; but I am not sure how to accomplish that….”

“We can look through my crafting supplies,” Roman assured. “Come on. I have something to tell you, too.”

…

Logan and Roman returned to the living room together. Roman almost expected the two mouse-men to be gone, a mere product of his sleep-deprived imagination, but they were very much still there. Patton had pulled his legs up onto the shelf, resting his head on his hand. The other mouse-man was pacing back and forth behind him, looking too agitated to sit down.

Roman and Logan sat down on the couch, Logan placing his bag neatly in his lap. The mouse-man’s pacing stopped, and he returned to his spot at Patton’s side, apprehensive.

Roman looked up at the shelf. Time to break the bad news.

“We’re ready to go,” he said, “but… you can’t come with.”

There was a pause.

“What the hell do you mean I can’t come with?” Patton’s companion snapped. Patton himself visibly tensed.

Roman took a breath, reminding himself to stay calm. “Because… It’s not safe. You could be seen, you could be hurt, and we can’t focus on you when we need to focus on your brother.”

“Is it because of my leg?” The mouse-man was understandably angry. Patton covered his ears, curling into a ball.

“No!” At least, it wasn’t _just_ because of that, but Roman felt that it wouldn’t go over well to admit that the mouse-man’s injury was a major factor in their decision. “We just can’t guarantee your safety if you come with.”

“You can’t just leave me here! I can help!”

“You could get hurt—”

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE!” the mouse-man practically screamed. “You say you do, but you _don’t!_ My brother is MISSING and I have NO IDEA where he is! He could be anywhere! _He could be—_ ” the mouse-man cut himself off right there with a choking noise, but Roman knew exactly what he had been about to say. He continued to glare down at Roman with fire in his eyes—And, he thought, tears. His chest was heaving.

Roman took a deep breath. “I do know, actually,” he all but whispered. “Not exactly, but I do.”

“What?” he snapped.

“I do know what it’s like. I had a cousin—she went missing when I was ten. She was four. Her family was out camping, and she wandered off. Got lost in the woods for five days. Nobody wanted to say it, but we all thought….” Roman shook his head. “But she found her way out. Walked right up to a couple walking their dog and asked them to take her home, if you can believe it. Nobody knows how she did it. She always just claimed that the fairies saved her.” He shook his head at the memory and then looked back at the person on the shelf, who was looking slightly less enraged. Slightly. “But it was really scary while she was gone. She spent two days in the hospital after.” He sighed. “So, yeah, I do get it. And I’d really like to help you, okay? That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“You can’t make me stay here,” he said, his voice wavering. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing—”

“You won’t,” Roman said. “Look, Logan and I need to get up there, right? But when we do find your brother,” he chose ‘when’ purposefully, “we need to make sure he’ll be willing to come with us, right? We’ll need to keep him calm, especially if he is hurt. When we get back, that’ll be your job.”

The mouse-man narrowed his eyes. Patton, sitting at his side, still had his hands over his ears. He glanced furtively between his companion and the humans.

“I’m going to need his name, your name, something so I can reassure him that you really did send us and we’re not going to hurt him. Please.”

The mouse-man gave him a look that said _, I don’t know that you won’t hurt him_.

“I know you want to come with,” Roman said, rubbing at an eye. “I would too. But think about it. How would we hide you? What could you even do to help, since you’d have to stay out of sight?”

Not to mention that he very well might freak out and make everything worse, judging by how stressed the little guy was.

“Look,” Roman said gently. “If you want our help, this is how we can do it. This is what’s safest, for everyone involved. We have something to carry your brother in, so he won’t be in one of our hands. But it isn’t big enough for either of you. It’s just not feasible. We’re really not trying to be harsh, here. It’s just how it is.”

The mouse-man swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “I can’t just sit here,” he repeated brokenly.

Logan reached into his bag and pulled out a few things, the movement gaining everyone’s attention. “Can you get down from that shelf?” he asked.

The mouse-man beside Patton hesitated, then slowly nodded. Patton seemed to realize that the yelling had stopped, and he cautiously removed his hands from over his ears.

“Okay,” Logan said. “In that case…” He put the bag to the side and got to his feet. Both mouse-men tensed, but Logan just reached over and cleared away some papers and a coaster from a small side table—much shorter than the one where Patton had formerly been kept, but with a tabletop of about the same size. He picked it up and turned around. “May I bring this nearer to you?”

Neither mouse-man responded, which Logan seemed to take as permission, for he slowly approached. Roman watched apprehensively.

Logan set the table beneath the shelf, then set down what he’d grabbed from his bag on top. “While we’re gone,” he said, “You two can set up a bed. If we find this missing brother of yours, and if— _if_ he is hurt, then we will need somewhere to put him. You two can set it up so it is comfortable."

“He’s not staying here,” Patton said uncertainly. “He’s coming with us.”

“This is only for a worst-case scenario, one in which it is best not to transport him back to your home for safety purposes. I promise we will not attempt to trap any of you here.”

The two mouse-men glanced at each other. To Roman, it seemed that they were having a silent conversation. Patton must have won, for the other sighed and muttered something under his breath. It sounded like he said “meal”.

“Could you repeat that?” Logan requested.

“Emile,” he said louder, like it physically pained him. “His name is Emile.”

Roman sighed in relief, appreciating the gesture of trust.

“And—and your name?” he asked, probably pushing their luck.

“I’ll tell you when you bring him back,” the mouse-man said defiantly. Roman just nodded, figuring that that was as good as they were going to get. They should get going—time was of the essence, after all. Roman had watched enough television shows to know that. He motioned for Logan to join him as he stood up.

“Okay, you’ve got a deal,” Roman said. “Just—don’t break any more of our stuff while we’re gone, okay? We’re coming back. It just might take a while, depending on what happens. It could be a few hours. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Emile’s brother didn’t respond, but Patton nodded to show that he understood. Roman and Logan turned to go.

“Please be careful with him,” a voice choked out just as they left the room. Roman turned back.

“Of course,” he assured, giving him a soft look.

Then, he and Logan left.

He sure hoped they found this missing Emile, and most importantly, found him alive. He wasn't sure if he could face the mouse-men again if they didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: what did you think of the new Sanders Sides? :D


	43. Rescue - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another ridiculously long chapter (6.3k)! I have lost all sense of self-control.

The apartment door shut with a thud.

In the humans’ absence, Virgil felt himself deflate. He slid down on his crutches, sitting down hard on the shelf. His breath came in ragged gasps, tears springing up in eyes already sore from crying. He choked back a sob.

Patton was there in an instant, pulling Virgil into a hug.

“I-I—I can’t,” Virgil cried out, his voice hardly understandable.

Patton’s arms tightened around him. “They’ll find him,” he murmured. “Just you wait.”

Virgil hugged Patton back, burying his face in his shoulder. He couldn’t help but think that Patton was lying to him, claiming to believe that Emile would be found safe and sound; but right then, maybe that was what Virgil needed.

Several long minutes passed in which Virgil broke down in Patton’s arms. The stress of the whole situation and the reality that Emile might never be coming home were really getting to him. Patton, ever considerate and kind, never let go of him.

At last, Virgil gradually began to calm down. Tears still slipped down his cheeks, and he sniffled occasionally.

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo,” Patton murmured once Virgil had quieted himself.

“Wh-what?” Virgil asked. “Why?”

“Because, Virge, that was really brave, what you did,” Patton said. “You were willing to go to _humans_ to save Emile. I know that it’s really hard for you to ask for help, and the fact that you could do it like _this,_ even after everything… You’re so brave. Not many littles would be that selfless.”

Virgil didn’t feel very brave, let alone selfless. In fact… “I scared you,” he said in a small voice. He leaned back slightly to look up at Patton. Patton loosened his hold on him to allow him to do so. Patton’s eyes were tinted red, like he was trying to keep from crying as well.

“Maybe,” Patton admitted. He glanced away, then gave Virgil a watery, tired smile. “But that’s okay. You’re just scared, and upset, like anybody would be. You were just trying to get them to listen. I know you didn’t mean to scare me.”

“I’m sorry I got angry,” Virgil said quietly. “I said I wasn’t going to do that around you anymore.” He wiped at his face, looking imploringly at his friend. “I’d never hurt you, Pat.”

“I know, kiddo.”

Another surge of guilt welled up inside Virgil. Not only had he scared Patton, but only the night before, he had literally caused Patton to _faint_. And now he was claiming that he’d never hurt Patton? _He already had._ He seized Patton’s arms, feeling a desperate need to apologize again. “Pat—Pat, I’m so sorry about last night. I was stupid and inconsiderate and irresponsible; and I’m so, so sorry.”

Patton looked briefly surprised, then bit his lip, looking down. “It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s not remotely fine.”

“You’re looking for your _brother_. You don’t have time to worry about me. It’s my fault, too: I should have said something sooner. I don’t want to hear you talk bad about yourself anymore.”

Virgil shifted. “Well… maybe,” he begrudgingly replied, even if it was just to please Patton. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He looked up at his friend, searching his face. “You really are okay, right?”

A tear slipped from Patton’s eye. “Yeah, Virge. I’m okay.”

Virgil nodded, several times too many. He took a long, shuddering breath. “I guess we should get down from here, huh?”

“Yeah, but…” Patton peered nervously over the edge. “How are we doing that?”

“We’ll go down through the wall,” Virgil said. He figured that would be the safest option. After that, to get on the table itself, they would probably have to use a rope and hook. Virgil had one with him, although it was a spare. _Emile’s_ spare hook, actually. Virgil didn’t have one of his own, spare or otherwise. He figured Emile wouldn’t mind him borrowing it on this occasion. Virgil took a deep breath, got to his feet, and waited for Patton to follow. They retreated back into the wall together. Logan and Roman wouldn’t be back for a while; they had time to do this right.

…

“What the heck are we even going to say?” Roman asked as he trudged up the stairs, following after Logan’s much more precise and purposeful steps.

Logan paused. “I can’t say that I know. I believed that we were merely going to ask if anyone had noticed anything odd.”

“Well, yeah,” Roman sighed, leaning on the wall and blinking up at his friend. “But we’re probably going to have to be more specific than that.”

“Well… ah…” Logan pursed his lips. “Perhaps we ask about any mouse sightings?”

“Perfect,” Roman sighed. “And then everyone’s going to be hiding their food and putting out mouse traps. I’m sure Patton and them will love that.”

“There’s no need to be short with me. It was merely a suggestion.”

Roman sighed. “I know, I know. Sorry. I’m just tired.”

“If you have any ideas, I am open to hearing them.”

Roman looked up towards the ceiling. “Maybe….”

“Yes?”

“Maybe….”

“Roman, I swear, if you fall asleep on me in this stairwell—”

Roman groaned, shaking his head hard to clear it. “Thinking.” He straightened and looked back to Logan. “Maybe… we could say the landlord sent us? To ask about how things are going? Like checking in to make sure nothing needs fixing or replaced?”

Logan looked thoughtful. “Perhaps. That may even get us invited into the apartments. Although, we would ideally have to contact Joan, to coordinate with them about that. It would be quite the awkward circumstance, should one of the other tenants contact them to verify and they deny it.”

Roman groaned again, knowing Logan was right.

“I didn’t say ‘no’,” Logan pointed out. “Joan is quite amicable, and thus far we have been model tenants, objectively speaking. They may be open to committing a small, white lie on our behalf.”

“What do we tell Joan, then? We can’t exactly tell them the truth.”

“Well, no… but perhaps we could amend the truth slightly.”

Roman resumed climbing the stairs, catching up to his roommate, who kept pace with him as they approached the landing. He was starting to get an idea. “Maybe we could say something went missing from our apartment, and we wanted to talk to people to see if any of them had it?”

“That could work.” Logan smiled, seeming relieved. “I will send them an email,” he said, already retrieving his phone from his pocket. “They are generally quite timely with their responses, so it shouldn’t be too long before they reply….”

While Logan did that, Roman took a few minutes to collect his thoughts and think through what he was going to say to the other tenants. He was just now starting to hit his second wind—the tiredness fading for now, thankfully. Maybe it was luck, or anticipation of what they were about to do, or maybe it was just the caffeine kicking in more. In any case, Roman was glad. This was too important to be ruined by lack of sleep.

…

Virgil and Patton made their way down to the base of the wall, heading towards one of the entrances that Virgil had previously blocked off.

“How hard will it be to open up again?” Patton asked.

“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Virgil assured, glancing back at him. “I was more worried about them being able to find the doors than about us never being able to get through again.”

That made sense, Patton supposed.

“I brought a knife with me, so it shouldn’t take long with the two of us.”

“Why not just use the hook to get down?” Patton asked hesitantly. He knew Virgil brought one with him sometimes, including today, but he’d never actually seen him use one.

“Well… I suppose we could have used it,” Virgil conceded. “I just figured this would be easier.”

Patton rubbed his arm. “Okay.”

They fell into silence again for a bit. Patton didn’t like being left with his thoughts like this. As much as he was trying to keep it together for Virgil’s sake, he was also incredibly worried. He didn’t share any relation to Emile, but he was one of Patton’s two closest friends—and only friends, since the humans probably didn’t count. Emile had been so kind and patient with him, doing his best to take care of both him and Virgil without complaint. He deserved so much better than this.

Patton sniffled and willed back his tears. There wasn’t time for him to go falling apart.

Actually getting the doorway open didn’t take as much time as Patton had feared. Patton and Virgil dragged out chunks of insulation from the tunnel leading up to it, and then Virgil cut through the tape and glue holding the door—a piece of baseboard—in place. Overall, it took less than an hour to get down from the shelf and open up the door.

Virgil pushed the newly unsealed door open and peered out, instinctively nervous even though it wasn’t as if the humans didn’t know about them. Patton couldn’t blame him. A second passed before he stepped out, and Patton followed. They were only a couple of feet away from the table Logan had set out, and across the room from the table where Patton had once been kept.

Virgil approached the nearer table, Patton hurrying after. When he caught up, Virgil was inspecting the table leg. “Now… we have to use the hook,” he was saying, mostly to himself. This table leg didn’t have a design carved into it, like that of the table Patton had been kept on did. Virgil stepped back, and both littles noted with gratitude that at least the tabletop didn’t have a lip that they would have to clamber over.

Virgil glanced in Patton’s direction and gestured behind them. “Do you want to…?” Patton nodded, getting the message, and moved further away from the table. Virgil balanced himself against one crutch, removed his backpack, and pulled out the hook. A long, beige piece of twine was tied to it, the individual strands starting to unravel. Virgil shook out the string onto the floor, wound up his arm, and threw the hook. It hit the edge of the table and bounced off. Virgil flinched as it hit the floor two inches in front of him. He grit his teeth and tried again. This time, the hook went over the edge of the table; but when Virgil pulled at it experimentally, it slid right over the edge and fell back to the ground.

“Bit out of practice,” Virgil explained in a low voice, his ears going slightly red.

Patton didn’t say anything. He didn’t mind if Virgil missed a few times. After all, if Patton tried to do this, it’d probably take a ridiculously long time for him to get a good hold. He hadn’t used a hook since the day he’d first been caught. Plus, he got the feeling that Virgil wasn’t a huge fan of using a rope and hook in the first place. He carried one with him on important trips like this, but he never actually used it. He guessed the reluctance had to do with how his foot was injured.

Not to mention how hard it probably was for Virgil to focus on his aim at the moment, with everything going on.

Thankfully, Virgil had more luck on the third try. He pulled on the rope several times more than was probably necessary, to be sure the hook wasn’t going to come free.

“I’ll go first,” Virgil offered, shouldering his backpack again. He picked up his other crutch, and  both littles approached the table.

…

Another two hours passed before the humans returned. Patton was dozing fitfully on the table top while Virgil paced back and forth, having adamantly refused to lay down. The bed, which they’d spent a good fifteen minutes putting together, was set up behind them.

Patton hoped that their efforts hadn’t been necessary. He hoped that Emile had just been trapped, that he had just needed someone to set him free.

At the sound of the door clicking open, Patton was immediately wide awake. He got to his feet, and both littles approached the edge of the table, waiting apprehensively.

Patton could hear two sets of footsteps approaching. But… they didn’t sound confident, or hurried, or even gentle. They sounded… reluctant.

Patton held his breath. _No. Please_.

The humans came into the room. Logan was first, tapping the tips of his fingers together, not looking directly at the littles. He had left his satchel in the kitchen. Roman followed after, looking practically dead on his feet. Neither of them were carrying anything as far as Patton could tell.

Virgil, at Patton’s side, had stiffened.

“Logan?” Patton whispered, finding that he couldn’t speak any louder.

Logan shut his eyes briefly, then turned to the littles. Roman collapsed on the sofa behind him without a word.

Logan took in the two littles, both very much on edge. He seemed to take pity on them, finally, and broke the tense silence.

“We didn’t find him,” he said.

…

Joan, the landlord, actually seemed quite eager at Logan and Roman’s request. They said that they really would appreciate it if Logan and Roman checked in with some of the other tenants—they were out of town at the moment, and they wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone in person for a few more days at least. And, they claimed, they were happy to help if something of Roman’s or Logan’s was missing.

“What a lifesaver,” Roman sighed, reading the email off of Logan’s phone. They had even sent a second email, a fake request that Roman and Logan talk to the tenants, for Logan and Roman to show if they needed it to convince someone of their intent.

“Perhaps literally,” Logan commented, mostly to himself. He locked his phone and slipped it into his pocket. “Come on,” he sighed, gesturing for Roman to walk in front.

“Won’t they be mad about the time?” Roman asked. It was still only just past 7 in the morning.

Logan supposed he had a point. “We can say that we were hoping to catch them before work,” he suggested.

At first, things had seemed to be going well. The tenant in 5A let them in happily once she heard that Joan had sent them, answering whatever questions Roman and Logan came up with and even allowing them to check around for themselves to see if they could find any problems that she might have missed.

Roman and Logan concluded that she was far too relaxed and happy to have them there to be hiding a “mouse-man” anywhere in her apartment. They still checked behind and under the furniture, but they saw no sign of him.

The inhabitants of 5B didn’t answer the first time Logan and Roman tried their door, so they went up to the sixth floor with the intention to return afterwards.

In neither of the apartments on the sixth floor were the tenants as happy about the visit as the first woman had been, but they let Roman and Logan in after they saw Joan’s email. They even let the two of them look around, even if the man in 6A had acted like they were completely ruining his morning. Regardless, they got to search the apartments, including the places that the mouse-men had reluctantly identified as the most likely spots for Emile to be. Unfortunately, Emile was in neither apartment.

Logan emailed Joan about a cracked window pane in 5A and a burnt-out light bulb and some water damage in 6B, and then they walked back down to 5B.

“He’s got to be here,” Roman had said as they descended the steps, taking two at a time. “They’re the only ones who didn’t answer. Maybe they were ignoring us because they didn’t want us to find him.” Logan couldn’t help but agree.

When they reached the landing, however, that hypothesis was dashed. Both women were standing there, in the middle of unlocking their door. They had just gotten home from a vacation, luggage bags in hand. There was no way that they had trapped Emile.

They talked to the women, anyway; but, unsurprisingly, they came up empty. They didn’t get to search that apartment, since the women were clearly tired and not eager to have them come in, but Logan doubted Emile was in there. Based on a look Roman gave him, he felt the same.

Had they missed something?

Where could the missing mouse-man be?

What on earth were they supposed to tell the two waiting in their apartment?

…

They didn’t find him.

_They didn’t find him._

Virgil sank down to his knees, the news repeating over and over in his head.

They didn’t find him.

He threw one of his crutches blindly, letting out an anguished shout. The humans had promised to help him, only to come back without Emile? After only _three hours?_

Virgil cried out again, not even caring that everyone was probably staring at him.

“Please—we haven’t given up,” the human was saying, sounding mildly alarmed. “The fact that we haven’t found him yet isn’t necessarily bad news.”

Virgil lifted his head, glaring at Logan through his tears. “Why did you come back without him?” he demanded. His voice was harsh, and his actual words were probably almost incomprehensible. But Logan would know what he was asking.

“I have to leave for a final exam in twenty minutes,” Logan said, his tone annoyingly reasonable. “Roman and I can continue our search when I return, a couple of hours from then.”

What the heck was a final exam? Why should Virgil care about that? It couldn’t have been more important than Emile!

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” Logan said. “But I _cannot_ skip this exam. Besides, everyone is exhausted. It would be beneficial to take a break. Emile would want you to take care of yourself, would he not?”

“Take his name out of your god-damned mouth,” Virgil snarled, too upset to worry about the consequences.

Logan visibly faltered. He gave a single nod and left the room without another word.

…

As soon as Logan left, Patton turned to Virgil. His heart was still pounding as he approached his friend and sat down beside him, looking down at where his crutch lay discarded on the floor, over a foot below. That was a problem for later, though. For now, he focused on Virgil, who was staring at the floor with his jaw set.

Patton reached out hesitantly and touched his arm. He wasn’t pushed away, so he silently took his hand. His friend didn’t acknowledge him, but he also didn’t try to take his hand away.

“You shouldn’t yell at Logan,” a tired voice said. Patton looked up to see that Roman was watching the two of them through half-open eyelids. “We really tried hard to find him.”

“Could—could you maybe go back out?” Patton asked hesitantly. Logan had to be somewhere soon, supposedly, but no one had said anything about Roman.

“I suppose,” he admitted. “I don’t know how I’m going to convince them to let me back in, though.” He shifted against the back of the couch. “Plus,” he yawned, “it seemed clear to me that he wasn’t in any of those apartments. No one acted suspiciously in the slightest, and we checked in all the places your friend described. Or, most of them. That last apartment was a bit different, since the owners haven’t been there in a week. They only just got home.”

Patton felt a shudder go through Virgil and tightened his hold on his hand.

Roman groaned and reluctantly got up from the couch. “I’m going to go grab Logan.” He was halfway out of the room when he paused, looking down at the floor. “Oh….”

Patton followed his gaze and saw that he was looking down at Virgil’s fallen crutch, lying in two separate pieces on the floor.

Roman bent to pick up the crutch, and Virgil scrambled backwards, forcing Patton to let go of his hand. The human straightened, holding the pieces. He reached over and set them on the table, a fair distance away from the pair of littles, and left the room.

…

Patton fetched Virgil’s crutch and brought it over for him. While unusable at the moment, it didn’t look too badly damaged—easy to fix once they had the materials to do so—but Virgil couldn’t bring himself to care about that.

Not while Emile was still missing. Not while they were sitting in a human apartment, having a chat with the most dangerous creatures on the planet.

The humans returned after a few minutes. Roman had his hands on Logan’s shoulders, practically steering him back into the room. The two of them sat down again on the sofa.

“Everybody be nice, please,” Roman said, glancing between them all.

Logan sighed. “So, as I said before, we were unfortunately unable to locate your brother,” he began, sounding reluctant, glancing at the table like he expected Virgil to interrupt him. He didn’t, this time.

“That doesn’t mean we are giving up,” he continued. “I unfortunately have to leave soon, and I doubt Roman will be of much use alone if he doesn’t get some sleep.” He glanced at the other human, who gave him a sheepish look. “The two of you look exhausted as well. I believe taking a break will do all of you some good.”

Virgil was about to tell the human exactly what he thought about that idea, but Patton squeezed his hand, and he resisted. Barely.

“However, as I still have some time before I have to leave, I would like to discuss our plans for when I return. Your brother was not in the apartments we searched, but he could still be nearby. Is there anywhere else he might be?”

Virgil sniffed. “Like _where?_ ” he asked, frustrated.

“I know this is hard, but try to focus, please. Could he be anywhere other than those apartments? Say, the stairwells?”

Virgil shook his head.

“Perhaps the laundry room?”

Virgil hesitated, then shook his head again. Emile wouldn’t have gone to the laundry room. They didn’t need anything from there that they couldn’t find elsewhere.

“I know that you said he was going to the fifth and sixth floors specifically, but is there any reason he might have gone to—?”

Roman suddenly sat up straight. “Wait… is it possible he came _here?_ ” he interrupted.

Virgil flinched, jerking to look in his direction. “Why the heck would he do that?” he asked. “Besides… we agreed not to.” _And yet look at you now._

The humans glanced at each other.

Logan coughed. “Well,” he said, his voice an unusual pitch, “judging by the timeline of events you gave us, and the lack of any sign of your brother being in the apartments we already visited, it is a possibility, albeit unlikely.”

Patton, still firmly at Virgil’s side, tilted his head. “Why—why would he do that, though?”

Roman sat forward. “I was thinking—Is it possible he used the shelf you arrived here on? Logan and I found the doorway there after a picture frame of mine fell the other day. Could _he_ have knocked it over?”

Virgil shifted uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” Patton said awkwardly. “But… that was—that was us.”

“Oh,” Roman said, wilting with disappointment. Then, like he’d been shocked, he sat bolt upright again. “ _Oh!_ That means… you two…?”

…

Patton nodded to confirm Roman’s thought. He figured that it would only hurt Roman’s feelings to tell him that he and Virgil hadn’t actually been planning to _tell_ humans that they were visiting, however, so he didn’t.

“Putting that aside for now,” Logan said, glancing at Virgil. “Is there anywhere else in the building that your brother could be?”

Virgil didn’t answer immediately, so Patton did instead. “Emile talked to him—” he pointed at Virgil, “—before he left. He said he was going to the fifth and sixth floors. Right?” Patton prompted. He wasn’t sure of the exact wording that Emile had used, and he didn’t want to assume. Although, he couldn’t see why Emile would have taken the trip to the upper floors if it were anything he could get on the fourth floor, or why he would have gone down to the second floor without stopping back at home. Of course, Virgil also knew the building layout better than Patton did. Maybe Patton was forgetting something.

“Right,” Virgil confirmed softly. Patton frowned, uncertain if his friend had actually paid attention to the question.

Roman groaned. “Well, then what do we do? We already talked to everyone.” He flopped against the back of the sofa. Patton frowned again, reminded of how exhausted Roman looked. Apparently, it wasn’t just he and Virgil who hadn’t gotten much rest the night before. Logan was the only one among them who looked remotely well-rested.

Logan glanced at the clock. “I need to leave, unfortunately,” he said. “If you think of any other possibilities for locations that E—that your brother might be, please let me know once I return.” He got to his feet. “I recommend that all of you try to rest until then. I understand that you might find doing so difficult, but it will help.” He seemed unable to help but look at Patton then, and in an even softer voice, he added, “It is good to see you again, by the way, as unfavorable as the circumstances may be. Roman and I have… missed your company.”

Patton didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

“See you later, nerd,” Roman mumbled, and Logan left the room.

…

Once they were alone, Roman looked over at the pair of mouse-men. They were sitting close together, Patton practically pressed against his companion. They were both thinner than Roman would have liked to see; and even if Patton looked much better than when he’d last seen him, he still felt that Patton looked rather pale. Were they doing okay?

 _Well,_ Roman reflected, _that’s probably a stupid question._ Of course they weren’t doing okay. Not with Emile missing.

But… maybe now was an okay time to ask about Patton? They had to wait for a while, anyway, so hopefully Roman wouldn’t get interrupted again.

He cleared his throat softly. “So… so, Patton?” he asked.

Patton looked up.

“How are you doing?” he asked. “Other than… other than all of this, I mean. Are you okay?”

Patton seemed to hesitate, but he nodded.

“Do you have enough to eat at home?”

For some reason, that seemed to be a sore spot for Patton, who seemed to wince slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Roman asked, forcing himself to sit up.

“Nothing—nothing,” Patton said quickly. His companion shifted at his side, but he didn’t say anything. Roman couldn’t read either of their expressions from here.

“Okay,” Roman murmured. He had a feeling it wasn’t actually nothing, but he didn’t push the topic. He was tired, and the two mouse-men were under enough stress already. He let himself fall back against the sofa again, but he made sure the movement was gentle enough to not scare the mouse-men. “Then… are you feeling better? You were still sick last I saw you.”

Patton nodded. “I’m better,” he confirmed. “Mostly.”

In another development that Roman didn’t understand, Patton’s companion lowered his head, swallowing hard.

“I’m really glad to hear that,” Roman said truthfully. He did his best to stifle a yawn, failed, and lifted up one hand to cover it. He lowered his hand back to his side and blinked slowly, his gaze drifting up towards the ceiling. “I think… I’m gonna fall asleep now, if that’s okay with you two?”

Roman didn’t get an audible response, so he just let his heavy eyelids close.

…

“…to eat before we go?”

“That’s… that’s real kind of you, kiddo; but I don’t think either of us is very hungry.”

Roman shifted, his eyes fluttering open. A shape came into focus in front of him: his roommate, seated in a kitchen chair with his back to Roman.

Roman pushed himself up against the back of the couch, rubbing at his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Ah, Roman. Did you sleep well?”

Roman looked around. A blanket had been laid over him, and the lighting in the room was dimmed. Logan was sitting in front of the table under the shelf, talking to the mouse-men, who were sitting together there.

“When’d you get here?” Roman asked, looking at his roommate. “Why didn’t anybody wake me up?” He was surprised he hadn’t woken on his own: Logan was normally the heavy sleeper, not him.

“Our visitors and I were just discussing where we might be able to find his missing brother,” Logan explained. “I only returned about fifteen minutes ago. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to let you sleep until we had decided where to go.”

Roman pulled the blanket off of himself and set it to the side. “Well, did you decide anything?”

“Possibly. Patton seems to believe that among the remaining floors, Emile is most likely located on the fourth.”

Roman yawned into his hand. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. Why the fourth, though?”

To his surprise, Patton was the one who answered. “M-my friend and I think he was d-done on the fifth—on the fifth and sixth floors. I don’t—I don’t know _why_ he would be on the fourth floor, but… I know he wasn’t be-below that one.”

Logan frowned slightly.

Roman glanced towards Patton’s companion. He was just staring down at the tabletop, not saying anything. That was probably not a good sign.

“Is your friend okay?” he asked, frowning.

Patton looked sad. “He’s just… he misses his brother. And neither of us really got much sleep last night.”

Roman was trying to figure out how to reply when the mouse-man in question lifted his head and looked straight at Roman.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he said, his tone allowing for no argument. “I just—he’s not on the fourth floor, okay?”

“What would you suggest, then?” Logan asked, his voice as nonthreatening as he could make it. Roman could tell he was trying hard to be patient.

“You—you said you skipped an apartment. 5B, right?”

“Well… not completely. We talked to the women who live there, and neither of them have been there this week.” Roman ran his fingers through his hair. “They couldn’t have caught him.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not there,” he snapped. “It just means they didn’t find him.”

Logan looked over his shoulder at Roman. Roman shrugged. The little guy had a point.

“We can try again there before we search the fourth floor,” Logan sighed. “But I can’t promise anything.”

Patton looked relieved, but the other mouse-man simply rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, as agitated as before. “Can you just go already? Please?” His voice was strained. He was close to snapping again.

“We can go,” Roman said quickly. “Yeah. Let’s go, Logan.” He got up from the couch. “I’m feeling much better.”

Logan glanced between Roman and the mouse-men on the table. “Yes, of course. We will be back soon.” He got to his feet, and the two of them departed.

As the two of them walked back up the stairs, Logan cleared his throat. “Roman, I know we agreed to check the fourth through sixth floors only, but do you believe it would be beneficial to check the others? They said that that their companion did not travel below the fifth floor, but that doesn’t negate—”

Roman put his hands up in surrender. “I don’t know, L. Maybe there’s some reason he wouldn’t be there.”

Logan sighed. “Perhaps.”

…

When Logan got back to the apartment, he half expected the two “mouse-men” to be gone, disappearing again while they were away. It would have hurt, of course, but at least then he wouldn’t have had to look them in the eye and tell them that he and his roommate still hadn’t found their brother.

Logan wasn’t one to overly emote his feelings, but he had to admit that that was a painful exchange. To see the hopelessness in the two small creatures’ eyes, the way Patton enveloped his friend in a hug even as tears sprung up in his own eyes.

They decided to call it off for the day. Logan was surprised that Patton’s companion agreed to it. Perhaps he was simply too tired and grief-stricken to argue.

“Do you want something to eat before you go?” Logan asked. He could do that much, at least.

It looked like the “mouse-man” was about to disagree, but Patton put a hand on his arm and whispered something that must have changed his mind. And so, Logan found himself in the kitchen, making a meal for what would likely be the most awkward dinner of his life.

They ate in silence, Logan and Roman in kitchen chairs across from the table like a parody of the dinners they had used to have with Patton. Patton and his friend only picked at their food, but after the meal, Patton gathered up some of the more transportable portions and put them in a bag that they had with them.

“Thank you,” Patton whispered. Then, with much more hesitancy, he asked, “Would you—would you mind leaving? J-just for a bit?”

Logan realized that Patton didn’t want them to know how they got out of the room. They must have had some other entrance into the walls besides the one on the shelf.

“Of course, Patton.”

…  

Patton and Virgil travelled home in silence. The trip took much longer than usual with Virgil only on one crutch, and they were both spent by the time they got home.

Virgil was reluctant to put a pause on their search, but he had to admit that they needed to stop at home for a while. The supplies to fix his crutch were there, and there also remained the distant, nagging possibility in Virgil’s mind, one he couldn’t quite shake, that Emile well might just show up back home on his own. There was also one other, somewhat urgent matter they had yet to deal with: the rat that had broken in the day before.

Virgil turned on the lights and looked around. Unfortunately, Emile was still not there to greet them. Instead, they were met with their ruined food stores lying scattered across the floor, knocked over furniture, and even a couple of rat droppings. The aftermath of the intruder.

“You go to bed,” Virgil said quietly. “I’m going to fix my crutch and then get this cleaned up.”

“You sure?” Patton asked. “I can do this. _You_ should be getting some sleep.”

“Patton….”

“I’m feeling better, okay? Besides, I took a nap earlier. I’m not sure if you sleep at all last night.”

“I did,” Virgil said truthfully, even if it hadn’t been for very long. “Just… please.”

“Vir—”

“I can’t, okay? I can’t sleep. Not while I know he’s out there, and he’s probably hurt, or—or _worse_ , and I just can’t.”

Patton looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Fine,” he said wearily, “you win. At least lie down when you’re done, though, okay?”

Virgil nodded, not meeting his eyes.

Patton left, and Virgil got to work.

…

It only took him about ten minutes to fix his crutch, thankfully; but it took considerably longer to clean the house. Virgil had to throw out everything that the rat had ruined, take stock of what little was left, and right everything that had been knocked over.

Finally, with that done, he sat down on the floor, and just took a second to look around the house. Most of the drawings had survived the rat’s rampage, and they hung as ironically cheerful banners about the room. They fluttered slightly in a breeze that came in through the open door, mocking him for his naivete.

Virgil sighed, glancing down at his newly repaired crutch. He shouldn’t just be sitting here. At this point, he didn’t hold much hope that they would find Emile, let alone find him alive: the two of them never had found their father’s body, after all. It wasn’t uncommon for littles to just disappear. But he had to try. Emile wouldn’t give up on him. Virgil couldn’t give up on him, either.

It wasn’t like he was going to fall asleep, Virgil reflected. Maybe he could go back up to the upper floors, to search more himself. It was still daytime, but he could be careful.

He was about to get up when the lights flickered, one of them turning off for a second.

Virgil looked up at them with a frown. They’d been doing that a lot lately, hadn’t they? He watched them for a moment, and they did the same thing again. One of the lights nearest to the door seemed to be the issue.

A thought struck him. Virgil slowly looked down at his right hand, sitting in his lap. He rubbed at the tip of one finger with his thumb. There was still a small scab visible on it, where he’d stabbed it with a needle the day that Emile had left. A result of these same flickering lights.

Virgil felt like he’d been submerged in a bucket of ice water.

He knew where Emile was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for the comments: What's your favorite kind of weather?


End file.
